The Mapmakers
by dizzy-bird
Summary: It's 1975 and Muggle-born Lily Evans is certain her best friend has been recruited by the Death Eaters. She's less certain about her future in Wizarding Britain. And she has absolutely no idea how to handle the dark-haired, outrageously privileged, obnoxiously talented toerag named James Potter. A canon-compliant account of the 1st Wizarding War and the teenagers who fought in it.
1. Cupid and Curses

"Alright," said James Potter as he slapped his hands on the Gryffindor table during breakfast. The Great Hall was even noisier than usual, with roses the size of serving dishes floating in the air above them and owls swooping from table to table, pink and red envelopes clutched in their beaks. "We are _so close_ to the full moon, so I am going to be very disappointed if one of us mucks things up today just because he wants to spend Valentine's snogging Daisy Hookum at Madam Puddifoot's—"

"James," replied a handsome, dark-haired boy, his features contorting as he tried his best to look offended, "surely you're not insinuating that one of us would ruin months — no, years — of hard work, because we'd rather get off with _Daisy Hookum_?"

"That's exactly what I'm insinuating," growled James. He helped himself to some pumpkin juice, which had been dyed pink for the occasion. "I mean it, Sirius. I'm sick of keeping this stupid leaf in my mouth all the time, and we're so close to being done, so if Daisy Hookum swallows your leaf while you two are eating each other's faces, and we have to start the process over again —"

"She's not going to swallow my leaf," mumbled Sirius, his mouth full of bacon. "We've been trying for years, I know how to keep my leaf to myself. It's Peter you need to be worried about, he's the one who ruined it last month —"

"I had Dugbog disease!" protested Peter, the smallest of the group. "I'd like to see you try to keep a leaf in your mouth while violently puking five times a —"

"I don't see why you all have to do it at the same time," said Remus, a vaguely ill-appearing boy who looked as if he himself might have a touch of Dugbog disease. "If Sirius loses his leaf today, why don't you lot keep going without him, and he can catch up next month?"

James shook his head dismissively. "This is a team effort, Moony. As anyone who has tried to hold a leaf in their mouth day and night for a full month can tell you, it's really tedious work, and I'm afraid our dear mate Sirius might lack the, er, _discipline_ to follow through if he doesn't have companionship while attempting such a feat."

"Guilty as charged," said Sirius with a grin, swallowing the last of his bacon somewhat delicately so as not to disturb the leaf tucked in the back of his mouth. One of the larger owls clipped a wing on an enormous floating rose and tumbled onto the Ravenclaw table, thoroughly ruining a student's breakfast. Sirius watched it with some interest before turning back towards James. "I'll be careful. Though I can't promise I won't give Daisy a few chaste pecks on the cheek if the opportunity arises..."

* * *

At the opposite end of the Great Hall, standing close to the entrance, a thin boy with sallow skin and lank black hair scanned the Gryffindor table warily, careful not to look towards the far end where James and his friends were sitting. Finally, he made eye contact with a pretty redheaded girl who smiled brightly at him. The girl stood up and grabbed a pair of croissants from one of the platters before bidding her girlfriends goodbye and making her way over to the boy. She handed him one of the croissants as the two left the Great Hall.

"You could have sat with us, you know," said the girl, Lily, tearing off a bit of croissant. "Nobody would have minded."

"You know that isn't true," replied the boy as they approached the great oak doors that led to the grounds of Hogwarts. "If Potter and his mates weren't at the table, maybe, but…"

"Severus," said Lily as the doors swung open of their own accord. "Don't be stupid."

"Not wanting to be hexed is stupid?"

"I mean don't be like everyone else." Lily waved her hand. "You magical folk are so concerned with segregating everyone into neat little boxes that never overlap. Can't sit at the Gryffindor table if you're a Slytherin! It's ridiculous."

"You're magical folk too, you know."

"Yeah, and I'm just saying. Muggle boarding schools are nowhere near as cliquey and uptight. It's not _normal_."

"So go to a Muggle boarding school."

Lily looked at him disparagingly. "Or I could stay here and sit at whichever table I like and be the change I want to see in the world."

"The last time we sat together at the Slytherin table, Avery got revenge by jinxing Mary Macdonald," Severus reminded her. "She spoke Swahili for a week."

"I know," sighed Lily as they wound their way down the path to Hogsmeade. "It's hard to be the voice of change when other people take the fall for it."

 _Also, you're Muggle-born_ , Severus added silently. He knew the depths of discrimination that Muggle-borns faced, even if Lily wasn't fully aware of it yet. In theory, only the old pure-blood families cared about blood status, but the fact of the matter was that few Muggle-born witches and wizards occupied positions of importance in the Ministry, and fewer still were policymakers or members of the Wizengamot. It was the same everywhere — a Muggle-born could be a Mediwizard, but the chances of them becoming Healer-in-Charge of a ward at St. Mungo's were almost nonexistent. Lily was a formidable enough witch that she could bend social norms at Hogwarts without getting too much pushback for it, but she wasn't going to start a cultural revolution on her own.

He didn't say any of this out loud, though. What he said instead was, "I've invented a new spell."

"You're changing the subject," said Lily, but she was smiling. "What's it do?"

"It's a Valentine's Day hex." Severus smirked slightly. "Point your wand at a person who's snogging someone else, make a motion like you're drawing a heart — clockwise, obviously — and say _Vomihominis_. The snogger's lips should grow a number of unsightly boils."

"That's horrible," said Lily, laughing. "Can you imagine kissing someone, and then feeling…? Eurgh! Very clever, though, recreating a Muggle disease…"

"I thought so," said Severus smugly.

* * *

Daisy Hookum was a pretty blonde Hufflepuff with thick fringe and a shaggy haircut reminiscent of a certain American film star. Sirius Black loved Muggle film stars.

"Well, Daisy," he said, checking his watch as their date in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop drew to a close, "this has been great, but I need to run to Pippin's to pick up a few things I've ordered. Want to come with?"

"Ooh, yes, please," said Daisy, and she leaned across the chintzy white table to press her lips against his. Sirius kept his mouth firmly shut while kissing her, but that had nothing to do with the fact that Daisy didn't understand words that contained more than two syllables. It was solely to protect his leaf. At least, that was what he told himself.

After a moment or so, Daisy drew back and they both stood up. Sirius dropped a few Sickles on the table, and they left the shop holding hands. As they pushed their way through the bustling crowd and towards J. Pippin's Potions, Daisy chirped in his ear about her favourite Hogsmeade shops. "I love the Three Broomsticks, we should stop by for a Butterbeer after Pippin's. I could use something to warm me up, it's so cold out here!" She shivered for effect, blinking up at him.

Sirius, smiling, laid his arm around her and pulled her closer. "I might know a way to warm you up," he murmured, their noses almost touching. When they kissed, in the middle of the crowded street, he was almost able to enjoy the moment without focusing on his leaf. Daisy kissed him again, opening her mouth a little, and Sirius responded in kind when all of a sudden —

"Sirius… what —" started Daisy, drawing back. Several hard pustules, red and inflamed, had appeared on his lips, and her eyes widened as the boils grew. "What's wrong? Are you allergic? Is it _me_?"

Sirius put his hand over his mouth and felt the lumps, the largest of which was as big as a Gobstone. He swore, and his leaf almost fell out. "Daisy — I..."

"It _is_ me," said Daisy, and her eyes filled with tears. "We kissed, and — and — oh Sirius, I'm so sorry!"

"I don't — I really don't think it was your fault," mumbled Sirius. It was becoming quite difficult to talk with both a leaf in his mouth and grossly misshapen lips. His grey eyes swept the busy street, narrowing as he noticed a small, dark-haired figure ducking into the Three Broomsticks.

"We have to get you to the Hospital Wing!" sobbed Daisy as she tugged on his arm. Several of the students passing by were beginning to stare.

"Daisy, no — just give me a moment..." Sirius grabbed her hand and dragged her into the nearest alley. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a small, square mirror. "James Potter!" he said, and his reflection vanished, replaced by James' face. Wherever James was, it was so dark that his brown skin and untidy black hair were barely distinguishable from his surroundings, though if Sirius squinted he could just make out a cluster of trees in the background.

"Merlin's pants," said James, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Bad date, eh?"

This made Daisy cry harder.

"Very funny," said Sirius. "I think our little Slytherin pal might have had a hand in this, but listen. I'm gonna head back up to the castle and sort my face out, alright? You'll have to come down here and pick up the… our order from Pippin's." He shot a glance at Daisy.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," James said in a tone indicating that Sirius should know what he was talking about. "Why don't you just _Finite Incantatum_ whatever hex Snivellus put on you and continue on your date —"

"He's allergic to me!" cried Daisy. "It's not a hex, it's because I kissed him, he needs Madam Pomfrey—"

"That's why, you twat," muttered Sirius.

James raised his eyebrows. "I keep telling you Hufflepuff girls are dimmer than a bag of gnomes," he said. "Fine. Let Poppy put your girl's mind at ease. I'll be down in a bit to pick up the package."

Sirius nodded, and James' face faded. He stuffed the mirror back into his pocket and sauntered out of the ally. Behind him, Daisy struggled to keep up as he strode towards the castle.

At least he still had his leaf.

* * *

James tucked the two-way mirror back into the pocket of his robes and stretched, looking around. He was standing at the edge of a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, deep enough into the woods that hardly any light filtered down through the canopy of ancient trees, which gave the clearing the look of perpetual dusk.

James was quite proud of what he had done to the clearing. First off, it wasn't exactly easy to find a place where dew could form untouched by both sunlight and human feet, much less in the middle of winter, when dew seldom formed at all. A rather powerful Atmospheric Charm ensured that the clearing stayed at the proper temperature and humidity for dew formation regardless of the weather, and a self-sustaining Nox Charm kept the area properly dark at all times. He had even — and this was what he was proudest of, for it was a tricky bit of magic — bound a Homonculous Charm to a ring that he wore on his finger, which would burn if anyone happened upon the clearing.

The end result of all this was that James had collected several teaspoons of untouched silver dew, which he stored in a small decanter made of black glass. With a wave of his wand, he undid the Atmospheric and Nox Charms. The air became several degrees cooler and his surroundings brightened as he picked his cloak off a tree branch and tossed it around his shoulders. He vanished at once, and the clearing lay still and silent.

James trekked through the forest as quickly as he could without making too much noise. Of course, the Forbidden Forest wasn't nearly as frightening when you had an Invisibility Cloak, as nothing was likely to bother you, but even so, he didn't like to overstay his welcome.

Luck was on his side today, though; as he picked through the thick undergrowth, the most menacing creatures he encountered were a couple of Bowtruckles fighting over an elm tree. He emerged near Hagrid's hut, pausing just long enough to stuff the Cloak into his bag before following the winding path to Hogsmeade.

Just as he had expected, the streets of Hogsmeade were lined with students holding hands and cuddling up to one another as if it was frightfully cold instead of a mild winter's day. Even the most hateful of the Slytherins seemed to be paired off; Wilfred Wilkes was nuzzling a girl who looked to be at least part hag.

James shuddered as he pushed open the door to J. Pippin's Potions. Even the shop was crowded, so he joined the queue for the front counter, standing behind a girl with shoulder-length red hair.

"Evans?"

The girl turned, raising her eyebrows and smiling a little. "Potter?" she mimicked, using the same incredulous tone he had.

"What are you doing here?" He cringed inwardly at what a stupid question that was. _Probably buying potions ingredients, same as you, you idiot._

"Well," said Lily seriously, "I've been trying to brew Felix Felicis so I can pass my O.W.L.s, but I can't seem to grind my Occamy eggshells finely enough, so I'm here to get more. You?"

James grinned. "I've been carrying a Mandrake leaf around in my mouth for months so I can become an Animagus. I just need to pick up the last ingredients for the potion."

"Good one," said Lily, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Slightly less believable than mine, though."

"Give me a break, you're brilliant," said James. "You could pass your O.W.L.s in your sleep."

"True." Lily's emerald eyes were sparkling. "You're a meathead compared to me. Honestly, your Animagus form is probably just yourself."

James laughed, but before he could respond, the bell on the door of the shop jingled, and a thickset Slytherin fifth year walked in. With his broad shoulders, powerful jaw, and small, blue eyes, he vaguely resembled a pit bull. James and Lily looked at each other.

"Speaking of unbelievable…" muttered James. "What's Mulciber doing here without his gang? I didn't know he even knew what a potion _was_ …"

"Oh, stop," said Lily, and she sounded less playful now. "He's minding his own business, please don't start any Gryffindor-Slytherin drama in here…"

James raised his eyebrows. "Start? I think your pal Snape was the one who _started_ something earlier, so don't blame me for wanting payback. Where's your little friend, anyway? Why isn't he with you?"

"He's busy." Lily bit her lip and looked away.

"Busy sucking up to some Death Eaters in training like the rest of his house?"

"Stop it," said Lily as they moved forward in the queue. "He's not like them, and you're just looking for a fight…"

"I'm the one looking for a fight? I'm not the one who hexed Sirius completely unprovoked this morning—"

"Are you actually angry about that?" said Lily, blinking up at him. Her eyes were more than a little distracting.

"Of course I'm angry! He's my best mate!"

"Oh, come on," said Lily, and her lip twitched again. "It was just a stupid jinx. I actually think Sev did Sirius a favour. Imagine having to spend all day with Daisy Hookum…"

James snorted in spite of himself. "Look, Daisy's a nice girl —"

"She gets a T in History of Magic every year. I don't even know how that's possible, seeing as Binns grades us randomly."

"Okay, but my point still stands —"

"What point?" asked Lily, hands on her hips. "That you don't like Severus?"

"That he hexed my friend!"

"So now you're going to hex Mulciber? That's just stupid, they're not even mates —"

"Lover's quarrel?" interrupted a voice behind them. Mulciber had joined them in the queue.

"No," began Lily, but James cut her off.

"Butt out, Mulciber," he growled.

Mulciber raised his eyebrows. "Fine by me," he said smoothly. "Just looking out for you, Potter."

"You?" said James incredulously. "Looking out for _me_?"

"Times are changing, Potter," said Mulciber calmly. "House rivalries are fine for first years, but the world is moving beyond that. Soon, it will be blood status that brings us together… or not," he added, jerking his chin towards Lily, who reddened but stood her ground.

"Is that really the best you can do?" she asked. "Make vague threats because I'm Muggle-born? How original. I feel _awfully_ frightened now. And you," she said, addressing James, " _Don't_ get into it with him just because it makes you feel gallant to defend me when we all know you've been itching for a fight ever since he walked in here!"

She turned her back on both of them and gave a little start as she realized she was at the front counter. "And I'll take three scoops of African sea salt and a handful of rue," she snapped at the shopkeeper, who had been watching the exchange with his mouth slightly open.

"Lily…" said James as she slapped a few Sickles onto the counter, but she cut him off.

"No, I don't want to hear it! It's Valentine's Day, and I want to have a nice afternoon in Hogsmeade without you ruining my peace!" And with that, she snatched the small paper bag from the hapless shopkeeper and marched out of the shop. The bell on the door clanged behind her.

"Well," said Mulciber after a moment, "turns out you didn't need my help getting rid of her after all —"

And that was when James hexed him.

* * *

Inside the Three Broomsticks, Severus Snape sat at the end of a corner booth, surrounded by housemates who were busy sucking up to a Death Eater in training.

"Is it true that the Dark Lord is recruiting werewolves?" Emma Vanity asked Lucius Malfoy breathlessly. Lucius, a boy in his early twenties with straight, shoulder-length blonde hair, smiled and raised his eyebrows knowingly, but he refrained from answering Emma's question. Beside him, a beautiful, dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. Severus recognized her — she was a seventh year, one of the Black sisters — but had never spoken to her. Despite this, he found her obvious disdain for everyone present strangely endearing.

"Have you — have you got the Mark?" babbled Avery, but Emma cut him off.

"Don't be ridiculous, everyone knows the Mark's just a story —"

"It is _not_ , there was a drawing of it in the _Prophet_ last week…"

"And you think that Muggle-loving drivel is a reliable source of information?"

"Break it up, children," said Mulciber. He slid into the booth to sit beside Severus, who glowered and moved closer to Avery. The table was getting uncomfortably crowded now. Mulciber looked at Lucius, and something unspoken passed between the two.

"You're late," said Lucius.

"I was held up," replied Mulciber evenly. "A certain Gryffindor Quidditch captain thought it would be great fun to practice duelling in the middle of Pippin's." He nudged Severus, who didn't respond.

"Well, now that you've decided to join us, we can get started." Lucius' eyes swept across the table. "As a few of you already know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named requires… _information_ about the goings-on at Hogwarts. Seeing as it's imprudent for him to enter the castle himself" — a few students snickered at that — "he has asked me to recruit a handful of _trustworthy_ students to be his eyes and ears at Hogwarts."

"Why's he interested in Hogwarts? Sir?" asked Emma Vanity, and Lucius looked at her.

"That," he said, "is information only those who are chosen need to know."

Emma shrank back in her seat a bit. The beautiful girl beside Lucius, who up until this point had looked utterly bored with the whole thing, spoke up, sounding as if she was reading off a cue card. "And what does one have to do to prove they are trustworthy, Lucius?"

"I'm glad you asked, Bella," replied Lucius. "As it happens, the Dark Lord quite trusts my judgement on the matter. This afternoon has been quite enlightening, and those who I select should await my owl." He gave her the same significant look he had given Mulciber, and then his gaze slid across the booth to Severus. The gesture was not lost on Avery.

"Snape? You're not thinking of choosing _him_ , are you? He's… he's not even a pure-blood, and he spends all his time with that Mudblood girl —"

"The Dark Lord decides who is and isn't a pure-blood," interrupted Lucius, but he looked questioningly at Severus now. "Do you have anything to say about your relationship with your Mudblood friend?"

Severus' flat black eyes met Lucius' grey ones. "Slytherins tend to keep to their own," he said. "But an inter-house partnership means I can learn things others cannot."

Lucius nodded slowly. "Just as I thought," he said. "I will speak to the Dark Lord, but I think he will agree we may have use for a spy."

* * *

"Detention?!" roared Sirius. It was evening as the four friends sprawled on the couches by the hearth in the Gryffindor common room, and his outburst caused a few nearby first years to jump. "I spent all bloody day specifically _not snogging_ Daisy Hookum so that your bloody leaf scheme goes off according to plan, and now you're telling me that you won't even be able to make it tomorrow night because you got DETENTION? Because you were showing off in front of her?"

"That's basically what happened, yeah," admitted James. He ran his hand through his hair, his fingers snagging on his untidy curls.

"I thought you spent all day not snogging Daisy because Snape cursed your lips off," said Remus pleasantly, as if offering a helpful correction. Sirius glared at him before turning back to James, who held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Relax, Sirius," he said. "It'll be fine. We'll have all night to do it, we'll just have to go out a little later than originally planned. Which works in our favour anyway, as the later we wait, the less teachers and prefects will be roaming the halls."

"They'll be short a prefect tomorrow anyway," Peter pointed out with a glance at Remus. "Seeing as Moony's gonna be… busy…"

Remus's smile flickered slightly, but then he grinned at Sirius, who was still scowling. "Yeah, I thought I'd do you lot a favour by buggering off for a day or two. Give you some time to make mischief and taunt a certain greaseball Slytherin without suffering my disapproval."

A corner of Sirius' mouth lifted. "You know what's funny about that hex Snivellus hit me with?" he asked. "I actually _couldn't_ reverse it with _Finite Incantatum_ , I tried after I got rid of Dai — I mean, after Daisy and I parted ways…"

"Amicably, I hope," said Remus, his eyes wide. Peter sniggered.

"Shut up, Moony," said Sirius, but he was smiling ruefully now. "No need to be jealous just because you spent Valentine's Day swapping spit with Peter —"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't risk the loss of my precious leaf on Moony," said Peter. "Fabius Watkins, though, maybe…"

James snorted. "So you had to go see Poppy after all," he said, addressing Sirius, who nodded.

"Yeah, she'd never seen that particular pattern of boils before, so I had to try a couple of different potions before we found one that worked."

"Interesting," said James. "I guess that means it must have been one of Snivellus'… ah… _inventions_."

"'Course it was," said Sirius darkly. "And I'm getting tired of being one of his test subjects, I'll tell you that much."

"Well," said Peter, "if he joins up with the Death Eaters — like we all know he will — he'll probably leave us alone in favour of hexing people whose blood status is a little more… ambiguous, if you know what I mean."

The other three looked at him.

"Way to bring the mood down, Pete," said James.

Just then, the portrait hole opened and Lily Evans entered the common room, accompanied by Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald, who was carrying a fat tabby cat. They were still pink-faced from the cold — the cat looked especially rumpled — and they stamped their boots on the crimson rug as they walked towards the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories. Lily laughed at something Mary said and glanced at James. Upon meeting his eyes, her smile faded a little, and she turned her head away, nose in the air.

"I see she wasn't dazzled by your chivalry," commented Sirius, following James' gaze. "Too bad, really. I know _I'd_ have been impressed if you'd turned Mulciber's fingers into gherkins to defend my honour…"

"Dill pickles, actually," said James lightly as he turned his attention back towards the group. "Rather more complex than your average gherkin, but I digress."

"So are we agreed, then?" asked Peter, fidgeting in his seat. "We'll do it tomorrow night, after James' detention?"

"Fine by me," said Sirius, and James nodded. "We'll meet outside the common room, by the portrait of the Fat Lady."

Their plans set, the four chatted idly for a while longer until finally Remus stood up, yawning and announcing that he was going to bed. Peter followed him, leaving Sirius and James alone in front of the fire.

"Sorry about Lily, mate," said Sirius in a low voice.

James tried to shrug nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the flames crackling in the hearth. "Mulciber's a git."

"Of course he is."

"She thinks I'm a git, too."

"You _are_ a git." Sirius slid off his armchair and onto his feet. "But that's part of your charm. She'll come around."

"Arsehole."

"Wanker."

They grinned at each other. With a wave of his wand, James extinguished the fire, throwing the common room into darkness, and they made their way up the stairs.

* * *

A/N: Super excited to be posting my first fanfic! Updates will be on Wednesdays.

This fic will contain 3 stand-alone arcs for Hogwarts years 5, 6 and 7 respectively, similar to the original HP books. Year 5 starts in chapter 1 of course, and year 6 in chapter 13. Year 7 will begin in chapter 34 (eventually. Lol)

A few content warnings for 5th year: bullying, non-explicit mentions of child abuse, and the non-explicit outing of a queer student.

Comments and reviews are very welcome. I'd love to hear your opinions, especially your thoughts on characterization, plot, world-building… okay, all of it, really! Enjoy!


	2. The Bell of Merlin

The following afternoon, Lily noticed that Severus wasn't at lunch.

He wasn't in the library, either, or in the Charms classroom on the third floor where they usually met. She even ventured into the labyrinth-like dungeons in search of him and got as far as Dungeon Six, which contained only mirrors of varying shapes and sizes, before a group of Slytherins rounded the corner, forcing her to flee back to the Entrance Hall.

Just as she was about to give up, she heard whispers on the fifth floor, near the prefect's bathroom. She peeked around the corner and saw Severus standing in the middle of the corridor with Avery and Mulciber, deeply engrossed in conversation. Lily's heart sank, and she drew back before they could notice her. If she concentrated, she could just make out what they were saying.

"….told you, it's not…" muttered Severus.

Mulciber's voice was deeper than Severus' and more self-assured. "And I've told _you_ that he doesn't give a damn what you…" His voice softened, and Lily couldn't hear the rest of his sentence. There was something in the way Mulciber said 'he' that sent a chill down her spine. Severus mumbled a reply, and Avery laughed.

"You _would_ say that, Snape, but that's not for you to…"

Their voices grew louder as they approached Lily's end of the corridor. She looked around frantically, but there was nowhere to hide. The wall across from her was bare except for a few musty paintings, and —

 _The Wandering Stairs!_ Lily could have jumped for joy. A brass doorknob was crammed between two portraits, jutting out from the stone. She turned the doorknob and the wall swung towards her. Inside was a cramped, twisting staircase, ascending with no end in sight. She slipped into the passageway and shut the door delicately behind her.

"Take me to the library," she told the empty staircase.

Immediately, there was a rumble, like the scraping of stone on stone, and the top of the staircase began to glow with a dim light. Lily took the stairs two at a time, nearly at a run, in case the Slytherins also noticed the doorknob in the corridor and decided to join her. She needn't have worried, though; she reached the top without incident and found herself facing a nondescript stone wall. Lily took a breath and stepped into the wall.

She came out the other side, between a row of bookcases in the library — the Herbology section, by the looks of it. Patches of grass sprung up between the wooden floorboards, and some of the books had sprouted long green vines. Turning around, she pressed her hand on the wall she had just walked through, but it didn't budge.

Lily grinned. A staircase that appeared randomly throughout the castle and took you exactly where you wanted to go? She _loved_ being a witch.

In the next row over, the shelves were lined with books about magical plants of the Amazon, and she found an old, musty armchair beneath a couple of hanging boxwoods. Determined not to think about Severus — her Severus! — plotting with Avery and Mulciber, she curled up in the chair, pulled a slim Muggle novel from her bag, and began to read where she had left off.

An hour or so later, the soft sound of footsteps brought Lily out of her novel. She looked up, peering through the tendrils of the hanging plants. Severus was walking towards her, shuffling his feet on the carpet. He dipped his chin in greeting.

"Hi," she said warily, closing her book.

"Hi."

He sat on the floor and pulled a quill and his Potions book out of his bag as if he was intending on studying. As if he hadn't just been talking with Avery and Mulciber, two people she _knew_ he couldn't stand. She watched him turn to a dog-eared page of his Potions text and scribble something in the margins, apparently engrossed in his own thoughts. Well, if he wasn't planning on bringing it up, she would.

"Where did you go in Hogsmeade yesterday?"

He paused, quill hovering over his book. "After we split up? Nowhere interesting. Cerdiwen's, Zonko's…"

"You didn't… meet up with anyone?"

He blinked, his beetle-dark eyes fixed on the pages of his Potions book. After a moment, he glanced at her. "Actually, yes. I went to the Three Broomsticks with some people from my House. Lucius was there. You should have seen the way my housemates were falling over themselves to get his attention, it was pathetic."

"What was Lucius doing at the Three Broomsticks?"

Severus shrugged. "Looking for an ego boost?"

"He's involved in Dark stuff, Sev, it was obvious even when he was still in school with us, and if you're getting drinks with him at the Three Broomsticks…"

"I did not _get drinks_ with Lucius Malfoy," snapped Severus. "Obviously he's an arrogant bonehead with more hair than sense. But when you belong to Slytherin House, and Lucius Malfoy wants to speak with you, it's in your best interest to put aside any personal feelings and attend."

"So you're just trying to keep the peace?"

"Trying and failing." Severus shut his textbook. "But that's not good enough for you, is it?"

"I just don't see why —"

"Why I can't just tell Lucius to leave me alone?" he hissed. "Because then not only will I have Potter and Black to contend with, but my own House too, and I don't know if you've noticed, but they're not exactly thrilled with me as is — "

"Why do you care so much what they think?" she asked, rather louder than she had intended. Hopefully Madam Pince, the librarian, couldn't hear. "Lucius is a _Dark wizard_ , Sev, and if there's that much pressure in Slytherin to join up with his lot, then —"

"Then what?" he said, standing up. "Should I tell Dumbledore, and confirm his suspicions that Slytherin House is the root of all evil? Ask the Sorting Hat to reconsider me for Hufflepuff?"

"There has to be something— "

"There's nothing," he said flatly. "There's nothing I can do except keep my head down and remain neutral, and even that draws unwanted attention, both in my House and yours."

Severus couldn't conceal the hurt in his voice, and she almost believed he was telling the truth.

Almost.

"Were you even planning on telling me that you met with Lucius?" asked Lily. "Or were you hoping I wouldn't bring it up?"

The answer was written on his face. He glared at her, lips pressed into a thin line as though biting back a retort. Then he whirled on his heel and stormed out of the library.

 _Good_ , Lily thought. _Leave. I don't care_. She looked down at the book she was holding and tried to summon the desire to open it back up and resume reading. The library felt too quiet all of a sudden. The Herbology section, which had seemed so lush before, smelled mouldy and damp, like rotting leaves. She stood with a sigh and slung her bag over her shoulder. She could always do some reading in the common room, she supposed.

* * *

Severus' oversized robes billowed behind him as he stalked through the dungeons. He nearly knocked over a pair of second years in his fury, but he didn't slow his pace. Lily had no idea what it was like to be him, to be continually mocked and underestimated and ostracized. It was so easy for her to lecture him about morality as if only she understood right and wrong. She was such a Gryffindor.

 _And you're such a Slytherin._

He wanted to curse something.

He turned a corner and arrived at the bare stone wall. "Runespoor," he grunted, and the stones rearranged themselves, forming the dark passageway into the Slytherin common room. Excited voices echoed through the tunnel as he slunk into the common room. Inside, Mulciber and Avery were standing by the hearth, surrounded by students. Mulciber immediately looked up and crooked a finger at him. Severus sighed inwardly and joined the group by the fire.

"There he is!" exclaimed Avery. He draped an arm around Severus, who wondered idly how difficult it would be to sever Avery's arm at the shoulder. "The man of the hour. I trust you've had some time to think about our little chat earlier?"

Severus kept his eyes on Mulciber. "I have."

"And?" prompted Avery. Mulciber raised his eyebrows.

Severus hesitated. Lily had looked so disappointed, and she'd thought he'd merely rubbed shoulders with Lucius. If she'd known Lucius was recruiting… that he had wanted Severus…

But that was irrelevant, now.

"Fine," he said, and Avery let out a whoop. Some of the other students grinned, swapping knowing looks. "But this doesn't leave the common room."

"That goes without saying," said Mulciber with a smirk. "Alright, then. What have you got for us?"

Severus shrugged off Avery's arm with more force than was strictly necessary. "We'll start with something simple." He drew his wand. Avery looked like he was about to wet himself from excitement. "This spell de-bones vertebrates. It helps with brewing potions… in theory." A couple of students sniggered.

After Severus had satisfactorily demonstrated his curse on a pair of unfortunate mice and instructed the others on how to replicate the spell, the group began to disperse. Severus Vanished the remains of the mice and wiped his wand on his sleeve, a dour expression on his face. He hated revealing his inventions to others, but he needed Mulciber to report good things to Lucius. Unlike Mulciber and Avery, Severus' last name had no pedigree; he had to prove himself through his talents alone.

"What a waste," said a voice. He turned and saw the beautiful seventh year from the Three Broomsticks standing behind him, her wild, dark curls thrown up in a knot. "Being forced to share the spoils of your hard work and cleverness. Those imbeciles can't even _begin_ to understand the ingenuity it took to create such a spell."

"They have no interest in understanding," muttered Severus. Across the room, Avery and Mulciber saluted him before climbing into the passageway that connected the common room with the dungeons.

Bella followed Severus' gaze. "Off to look for mice of their own, no doubt," she said lightly. She turned back to him and tilted her head to one side, thoughtful. "Would you like to have tea with me?"

"Not particularly."

"Will you come if I say please? I was headed to Dungeon Twelve before I noticed your little demonstration." She smiled at him, revealing a perfect row of square, white teeth. She was charming, and she knew it.

Severus figured he could use the company of someone he did not yet hate. "If you insist."

They left the Slytherin common room and began to walk deeper into the twisting dungeons. Side-by-side, it was obvious that Bella was much taller than him. She didn't seem interested in talking as they strode through the dungeons, and Severus certainly wasn't going to drive the conversation, so they walked in silence. Finally, at the end of a long corridor, they reached Dungeon Twelve.

Called the Fishbowl by younger, more impressionable Slytherins, Dungeon Twelve had the appearance of being entirely underwater. The walls were completely transparent, giving a clear view of the lake surrounding the dungeon. Even the floor and the ceiling were translucent, and a group of Grindylows glided languidly through the algae beneath Severus' feet. Above them, the last traces of sunset filtered through the surface of the lake, bathing the room in an eerie, shifting green light.

"Excellent," said Bella as a school of large, silvery fish with multiple tails swam past the wall beside her. She closed the door, and it too disappeared, giving Severus an unobstructed view of the lake around them. The Grindylows swam up the sides of the room to give chase to the school of fish.

"Out," commanded Bella, and Severus turned. She was addressing a group of sixth year Slytherins who were seated in the centre of the room.

"Bella, we're studying — "

"And you can do that elsewhere. I said OUT!"

There were echoes of her cousin Sirius in her voice, haughty and self-assured. The students began to pack up their things, but they weren't quick enough; with an upward swipe of her wand, Bella sent their papers flying into the air.

"Come on, Bella…" whined one of the students as the others scrambled to collect the whirling papers. He drew his wand and pointed at the fluttering sheets of parchment. " _Accio_ —"

" _Everte Statum_ ," said Bella lazily. Her wand twitched, and the sixth years went flying backwards, flipping helplessly in the air and crashing against the entrance to the room. One of the students, looking panicked now, hastily pulled open the dungeon door while another Summoned the remainder of their belongings. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them and then faded from view so that Bella and Severus were looking at nothing but the murky depths of the lake.

"That's better," said Bella, as if she had merely brought the room to a more comfortable temperature. They wandered to the far corner of the dungeon, where Bella conjured up a pair of cushions for them to sit on.

"House-elf," said Bella imperiously once they had settled down among the cushions. There was a loud crack, and in front of them appeared a small, thin creature wearing nothing but a tea towel emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest.

"Yes, mistress?" squeaked the creature, bowing. One of its ears pointed straight up while the other flopped in front of its face, covering its eyes. Its limbs were unnaturally long and spindly. Severus had to force himself not to stare. He'd never seen a house-elf before, and hadn't expected them to look quite so… fragile.

"We'd like some tea," said Bella. Her tone wasn't bossy or demanding; on the contrary, she sounded so confident her orders would be obeyed that she didn't need to be bossy. "Black. I'll take cream and sugar with mine."

The house-elf bowed again and turned towards Severus, brushing its ear out of the way. "And for young master?"

"Earl grey," said Severus. "Hot." _In case it wasn't obvious_.

The house-elf gave them a final, floppy-eared bow and vanished with another loud crack. Seconds later, there was a softer popping noise. Severus gave a start and felt supremely foolish when he realized the source of the sound. A silver tea tray had appeared in front of them, containing their tea and a small platter of scones. "Good service," he said. He tried to affect a disinterested tone, as if he hadn't just jumped five feet in the air.

"Oh, they're darling," said Bella as she reached for the teapot. "My aunt has one I _adore_ , he's so precious." She poured a bit of tea into her cup. "You'll have never seen one before, though, have you?"

Severus blinked at her question, wondering if he'd committed some sort of faux pas that made it obvious he'd never interacted with a house-elf. She met his eyes and smiled. "I just figured, given your background…"

 _Right_ , thought Severus bitterly. _Because I was raised by a Muggle and a witch who may as well have been one_. He should have known that his blood status was enough of an oddity in Slytherin that even among seventh years his parentage would be common knowledge. "That was my first encounter with a house-elf, yes."

"I can't even imagine." Bella widened her eyes and shuddered dramatically. "What was it like? Growing up with a Muggle for a father?"

Her curiosity seemed innocent enough, but Severus had no desire to relate the details of his miserable upbringing to a girl he'd just met. "It was exactly as you'd expect it to be."

"That's awful," said Bella, sounding sympathetic. "Although at least you knew what you were, though, because of your mum. Can you imagine, spending your whole childhood in _that_ world without knowing anything about ours?" She shook her head. "I feel bad for Mudbloods, honestly. Even after they get their letter and learn that they're magic, they still don't really belong, neither here nor there. Caught between two worlds… I don't expect anyone could be truly happy living like that."

Severus was impressed at both this unexpected display of compassion and at Bella's word-for-word parroting of the anti-Muggle pamphlets that had been making their way around Slytherin House in recent weeks. Apparently, the propaganda was leaving a more lasting impression than he had thought.

"I imagine it would be difficult," he said, thinking of Lily, who certainly didn't seem caught between two worlds.

"It's a good thing they're dying out, I suppose," said Bella indifferently. "One way or another."

That sounded more like the Death Eater in training he knew her to be, but he had no interest in showing approval for that sort of ideology, so he said nothing.

His silence didn't go unnoticed. "Oh, I don't care if you agree about _that_ ," said Bella. "I think we'd be doing them a mercy, but I'm not obsessed with blood purity the way some people are. I think we have that in common… and other things, too."

She put such significance on the last bit that Severus felt obliged to respond. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean I'm not like the other absolute _brutes_ in our House, and I don't think you are, either. I don't care about having power, or control, or keeping the Mudbloods in their place," she said, fixing her dark eyes on him. "What I like is magic — Dark magic. Bending it to my will, shaping it, feeling the way it runs through me and remaking it into what I want." A wild light danced behind her eyes. "I've seen you with your spells, and I think you like it too."

Well, there was no denying that. Dark magic was twisted and unpredictable, its bounds nearly limitless. Ordinary magic couldn't compare, really. He nodded his agreement and she grinned, her expression making her look somewhat feral.

"I knew it," she said. "I knew we were alike. And the Dark Lord — he's the same way as us. He knows how better than I do, he's been showing me." She touched her left arm, raising her eyebrows at Severus as she rubbed the sleeve of her robe. "Maybe I'll share some of it with you if you're lucky."

 _Of course you don't care about power_ , thought Severus, his eyes on her arm. _You already have it_.

* * *

Lily Evans was in a foul mood.

As if it wasn't enough that she and Severus had rowed, she now had to spend her Sunday evening babysitting James Potter — James Potter! — as he served his detention. During the week, detentions were overseen by the Heads of House, but since it was the weekend, Professor McGonagall had delegated the task to the Head Boy, who had delegated it to the seventh year Gryffindor prefects, who had delegated it to the sixth year prefects, who had delegated it to Lily. She had hoped that Remus Lupin would have been able to supervise the detention with her, too — the presence of one of James' friends might have meant she could interact with him less — but she hadn't been able to find Remus anywhere that evening.

She stormed up the stairs that led to Gryffindor tower, passing the corridor containing the portrait of the Fat Lady and continuing up the winding staircase. Eventually, she reached the ladder that stretched up through several makeshift wooden platforms to lead to the belfry, which was so far above it was out of sight. After casting an Anti-Gravity Charm on herself — she wasn't about to risk falling off the ladder, after all — she began to climb, her thoughts dark. Maybe James wouldn't show. Maybe his fat head would cause him to slip off the scaffolding of the bell tower and plummet to his death.

Well, perhaps not his _death_. Maybe he'd just be permanently incapacitated.

James was waiting for her at the top of the ladder, and her heart sank. _Damn it all._

"Evening, Evans," he said cheerfully. He offered her a hand, which she refused. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

"Let's just get started," she said, brushing off her knees as she stood up. "You are to clean the Bell of Merlin — that's the big one, in the middle — and polish it. McGonagall also wanted you to polish the Bells of Cadogan and Morgana, if there's time. Cleaning spells —"

"…are prohibited," he finished, smirking. "Not my first detention, Evans. And I know which one the Bell of Merlin is, Merlin himself knows I've cleaned it enough times —"

"Then you should be able to finish quickly," snapped Lily. "I'll be over here if you need me. Which you won't."

She sat down on the floor of the belfry, watching as he picked his way over the wooden beams to the Bell of Merlin. Once he'd reached it, he placed one hand on the massive bell for balance before turning back towards her. "I suppose I'm allowed to conjure up some rags?" he called. "Or do I need to use my tongue?"

"Rags are fine," said Lily, glowering. James grinned, his eyes on Lily, and pretended to lick the bell as he pulled his wand out of his back pocket. Lily flushed. "That's just foul!"

"Good point," said James thoughtfully, pulling off one of his shoes and then his sock. "The poor bell doesn't deserve that, it doesn't know where I've been…" With a wave of his wand, the sock turned into a large, dirty rag. He stuffed his foot back into his shoe and began to polish the bell, oblivious to the fact that Lily was fuming.

"Potter," she said with as much fury as she could muster, "you can't polish the Bell of Merlin with your _sock_ —"

"Why not?" he asked, widening his eyes innocently.

"Because it's a precious historical artefact! It needs to be treated with respect!"

"Honestly, Evans," he said, shaking his head, "I always knew you fancied me, but to call my sock a precious artefact…"

"You know I meant the bell, you prat!"

"You're too easy to work up," he said, continuing to polish the bell. "Not that I mind, seeing as you're cute when you're angry…"

Lily was too livid for words. "Ah, Evans, come off it," he said, noting her furious expression. "I'm just taking the mickey. You know I'm rubbish at conjuring, it's so much easier to just use Transfiguration…"

"But a _sock_ , Potter? Really?"

"Would you rather I used my shirt?" he asked, winking.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don't bother me." She pulled her book out of her bag and flipped to where she had left off, determined not to engage him any more than she already had. In her peripheral vision, he shrugged and continued working.

Some time later, she looked up, only to discover that James had vanished. "Potter?" she said loudly, standing and walking to the edge of the wooden platform. She scanned the belfry, but there was no sign of him. "Are you there?"

A foot peeked over the top of the enormous Bell of Merlin, followed by the rest of him. He appeared to be hanging upside-down in the air as if suspended by the ankle. "You called?" he asked, his voice sounding strangely muffled, and Lily almost screamed.

"Get — get down from there — if you fall and break your neck —"

"I imagine you'd get to turn in early if I did," James said, still talking as if he was chewing a large wad of gum. His mop of hair was even more tousled now that he was upside-down. He kept his wand pointed at himself, and with a jerking motion he levitated up and over the massive bell so that he was floating in the air in front of Lily, high above the crisscrossing wooden beams.

"Are you _insane_?" she said, beginning to sincerely think he might be.

"Well, how else was I going to clean the very top of the bell? Since I can't use cleaning charms —"

"You could have used a ladder like a normal person!" she exclaimed. "You could have levitated your _rag_ —"

"Ladders are for Muggles." He used his free hand to pull down his shirt, which had come untucked from his trousers and was flopped over his face. "And as far as the rag goes, where's the fun in that?"

"You're in detention! It's not supposed to be fun!"

"And yet I'm having a great time," he said, grinning broadly. "You should come up here too and — oops —"

His rag had fallen out of his pocket, tumbling down through the rafters of the belfry. He turned his wand away from himself, towards the falling rag, and she realized what was about to happen. " _Accio_ —"

"POTTER, NO!"

But it was too late. James dangled in the air for a moment, his eyes widening in shock as he realized what he'd done; he clapped one hand over his mouth, almost comically. Then, his levitation spell broken, he dropped like a rock, plummeting headfirst through the lattice of wooden beams, towards the bottom of the tower —

" _LEVICORPUS_!" yelled Lily, dropping to her knees at the edge of the platform and pointing her wand downward. _If he actually falls to his death tonight —_

There was a crash, and then silence. Lily could feel her pulse racing. _Come on, come on —_

Then a large, dark shape came speeding upwards, smashing through the rafters and flying above her head, until, ten feet above her, it stopped.

"Er," said James Potter with a grimace as he hung upside-down in the air. His hand was still over his mouth. "Thanks. Think I might have broken a foot, though…"

Lily flicked her wand, jerking him towards her until he was dangling above the platform. " _Liberacorpus_ ," she growled, too angry to cast the spell nonverbally, and he collapsed beside her, groaning and holding his ankle tenderly.

Lily briefly considered leaving James to fend for himself — broken bones were commonplace at Hogwarts, and this was surely not his first — but her conscience got the better of her. With a sigh, she knelt down and rolled up his trouser leg to expose his ankle, which was badly cut and already beginning to swell.

"I suppose this gets you out of detention," she said coolly, straightening up. "Since we'll have to take you to the hospital wing. Though how you expect to climb down the ladder with a broken ankle is beyond me…"

"I can do it," said James through gritted teeth as he crawled towards the ladder. "And I'm not going to the hospital wing."

"Fine by me," said Lily. James looked up, seeming genuinely surprised that she was not arguing the point. She rolled her eyes at his expression. "It's not my problem that you don't even have the common sense to go see Madam Pomfrey after a fall."

"That wasn't… technically… a fall," he panted, easing himself down the ladder. "Seeing as I didn't actually hit the ground."

That was almost funny. Not that she'd ever admit it. "I wouldn't be so sure," she said. "Test my patience again and you might just find yourself at the bottom of the belfry."

"Surely you wouldn't hurt a _cripple_ ," he replied, wincing as he climbed down the rungs.

Lily bit back a smile. "Go ahead and try me."

After what seemed like ages, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Lily gave the password to let them in. She climbed into the portrait hole, but James remained outside.

"Erm…" he said awkwardly. "You know… I was thinking I might go down to the hospital wing after all. My ankle actually hurts quite a lot."

"Great idea," said Lily. She wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and finish reading her novel. Babysitting James was exhausting. "You do that."

"I will," said James. "And, er, Evans…"

She kept going. The portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut behind her, and she didn't look back.

* * *

Sirius pulled off the Invisibility Cloak as soon as the entrance to the Gryffindor common room had closed behind Lily. "Let me get this straight," he said. "Your punishment for duelling to impress Lily Evans… was that you got to spend more time with Lily Evans? How did you manage that one?"

"I know," said James. He grimaced and hobbled over to where Sirius and Peter stood. "Lucky me, I guess."

"I think there might be something wrong with your ankle, mate," observed Peter as James draped an arm around his shoulders for support. "Just a feeling I've got."

"Really?" said James. "That's funny, I hadn't noticed…"

Sirius pulled the Invisibility Cloak over the three of them and they vanished from sight. "Must've been a bad date, then, eh?" he asked James as they started down the corridor. "Even by your standards…"

"Not my most shining moment, yeah," agreed James. "Kept my leaf in though, which was bloody difficult, I'll have you know. You've got everything we need?" he added. Sirius nodded.

"I can't believe we're finally doing it," said Peter as they rounded a corner. "After three years of trying—"

"Don't jinx it yet, Pete," warned James. "There's still about five hundred feet before we reach the Astronomy tower."

But they climbed to the top of the tower without incident, apart from James' muttered curses as he hopped up the stairs.

"Sweet Merlin, _and_ it's a clear night," said Sirius, looking at the starry sky. The full moon hung bright and heavy above them. "Couldn't ask for better."

"Yeah," said James as he pulled off the Cloak. "It's weird, isn't it? Thinking right now, Moony's…" he trailed off and glanced beyond the parapet, towards Hogsmeade.

"Soon he'll have us for company, at least," said Sirius. He pulled the decanter made of black glass out of his bag, along with three crystal phials and the package bound with twine that James had picked up from Pippin's.

"What form do you think yours will take?" Peter asked Sirius, who was arranging the phials along the wall of the parapet.

"Well, _yours_ will be a mosquito, obviously…"

James snorted and unwrapped the package, revealing three chrysalises the colour of clotted blood. "Are we ready?"

Sirius and Peter nodded and took a step back from the wall. James spared another glance at the moon.

"Together then," he said. "One, two, three —"

He reached into his mouth and pulled out his leaf, and the other two did the same. Mandrake leaves were generally thick and fibrous, but being exposed to saliva over the course of a month had turned his to dark green paste. He dropped the mush into one of the phials, and Sirius and Peter followed his lead.

Then he unstoppered the decanter, measuring out a trickle of dew with a silver teaspoon. He poured the dew into the phials, one teaspoon at a time, and placed a chrysalis into each phial. Finally, all three of them tugged out a lock of their own hair and added it to their mixtures.

Satisfied, James stoppered the phials and stepped back. They waited.

Nothing happened.

Peter broke the silence first. "That's it? After all that work?"

"I _was_ expecting something a little more dramatic," agreed Sirius with a shrug. "But I guess we'll have to wait till the next electrical storm for that."

"But a storm could take ages," said Peter. "Are we supposed to just sit around —"

"Yeah, we are, actually," said James irritably. His ankle was hurting worse now, throbbing with every second he put weight on it. "We'll lock our potions in the dorms, so we won't be tempted to look —"

"By 'we', he means you, Pete," said Sirius, nudging Peter.

"— and we'll say the incantations, and we'll wait." James tucked his phial inside his robes. His injured ankle rolled underneath him, and he stumbled. Sirius caught him before he could fall.

"You should really go see Madam Pomfrey, mate," he said. He pulled his wand out of his robe and conjured a pair of crude wooden crutches for James to lean on.

"Show-off," muttered James, but he took the crutches.

As he turned to leave the tower, he looked once again towards Hogsmeade. It might've been his imagination, but he thought he could hear a distant, mournful howl.


	3. The Laughing Pear

The next morning, James woke to pain shooting through his ankle and up his leg. Sirius was sitting on the end of his bed, shaking him by the calf.

"Ow, Sirius — stop it, would you? My ankle…"

"Oops, sorry mate — forgot —" Sirius hopped off the bed. "It's sunrise, though. Thought you wouldn't want to miss it, considering…"

The pain in his ankle ebbed. James yawned and sat up. "Good thinking. After all that work with the Mandrake leaf, I'd hate to ruin things on the very first day…" He groped for his wand, which was lying on the nightstand beside him. "Is Peter up?"

"I am now," came a voice, and Peter's head appeared as he drew back the curtains to James' four poster bed. "Are we ready?"

James nodded and pressed the tip of his wand to his own chest. " _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ ," he intoned. A warm flush spread through his body as he said the words. Sirius went next, wand over heart, followed by Peter, who nearly stumbled over the incantation.

"Don't muck it up, Pete, or you really _will_ turn into a mosquito," said Sirius, returning to his bed and pulling a set of school robes off the floor.

Peter made a face. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

"Nah," said James as he changed into his uniform. "You'd become some sort of mosquito-human hybrid. Shunned by society as an abomination, you'll have to flee to the Forbidden Forest, where you'll live out the rest of your days in hiding. First years will speak in hushed tones of the blood-sucking monstrosity that lurks in the dark, watching… waiting…"

This did not seem to reassure Peter, but Sirius laughed. "Come on, mate," he said, clapping a hand on Peter's back. "You'll be fine. Worst case, we'll have _two_ beasts hiding in the Shrieking Shack."

Sirius conjured up another pair of crutches for James to use, and they descended the many staircases of Hogwarts. On the first floor landing, James bid goodbye to his friends, who were headed for breakfast in the Great Hall, and began to plod towards the hospital wing.

He shouldered open the door to the infirmary in time to see Madam Pomfrey slip behind a curtain drawn around a bed at the far end of the room. She murmured something, and a soft voice responded, but he wasn't able to make out the words. He crutched over to one of the nearby beds and sat down gingerly, extending his injured leg in front of him.

After a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain. Her shoes clicked loudly on the floor as she strode towards him. She was a young witch — she couldn't have been out of her mid-twenties — with large brown eyes and an open face. James was thoroughly committed to badgering Lily until the end of time, but he considered Madam Pomfrey an excellent second choice when Lily wasn't available.

"Hullo, Poppy," he said, lifting a hand in greeting.

Madam Pomfrey tutted. "Five points from Gryffindor. What is it now, Potter?"

James grinned. "Only five points? I was expecting ten."

"I thought about it," she said, and though her voice was firm, her eyes sparkled. "But you appear to actually be injured this time, so I have chosen to overlook your disrespect."

She knelt beside him and rolled up his trouser leg, much the same way Lily had done. "Mind telling me what happened?"

James flinched as she prodded his ankle with her wand. "Well, I _didn't_ fall down—"

"Quite right," she said. "Judging from the angle of the break, you seem to actually have fallen _up_." She pressed her wand into the skin of his ankle and closed her eyes as if listening to what his leg had to say. "Another victim of the Levicorpus, I think?"

James' eyes began to water. Her wand was really digging into his leg. "Basically."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Imagine, taking turns flinging each other into the air and being surprised when someone gets hurt. Teenagers, I tell you…" She tapped his ankle twice with her wand. " _Emendo_."

Immediately the pain subsided, and James watched as the swelling decreased before his eyes. Even the bruising faded.

"You're the greatest witch of our time," he said, relaxing.

"I should think so," replied Madam Pomfrey. She stood up and stowed her wand in the pocket of her apron. "I get quite a lot of practice from you and your friends alone. Speaking of which…" She nodded her head towards the occupied bed at the end of the infirmary. "He's not supposed to have visitors, but Remus might appreciate if you said hi before you left."

James Vanished his makeshift crutches with a wave of his wand before walking towards the bed hidden behind the curtain.

Remus rolled over slowly as James pulled back the curtain. "Hi," said Remus hoarsely. He sounded as if he'd been screaming, and his lips were badly chapped. The only colour in his face came from the dark purple bruises that ringed his eyes.

"Moony," said James as he sat on the edge of the bed. "You look great."

Remus smiled weakly. "It's been a long night."

"Listen," said James. He peered beyond the curtain to make sure Madam Pomfrey was out of hearing distance. Leaning closer to Remus, he lowered his voice. "We did it."

Remus blinked. He frowned as if he didn't understand.

"Last night," said James. "We went up to the Astronomy tower and made the potion. It went perfectly. All we have to do now is wait for a storm, and that shouldn't take more than a couple of months."

Remus didn't respond. He looked for a moment as if he might cry, and then he shut his eyes, breathing deeply. "I never asked —"

"'Course you didn't," said James, raising an eyebrow. "You're Remus Lupin. If you were playing Seeker at the Quidditch World Cup you wouldn't ask for a broom."

"You shouldn't have —"

"And yet we did," said James. "We've started the incantations, so there's no backing out now."

Remus didn't seem happy to hear this. On the contrary, he grimaced, as if James' words caused him physical pain.

James looked at him. "At some point, Moony, you have to get used to the idea that you have friends." He stood up and turned to leave. "Get some rest. Let Poppy pamper you. And look forward to the storm."

* * *

There was a pit in Lily's stomach as she made her way down to Dungeon Two for their Potions lesson with the Slytherins. She hadn't seen Severus since they'd rowed the day before, and she wasn't much looking forward to working with him in class. Though she was determined not to back down from what she'd said, she secretly hoped he would want to pretend their argument had never happened. That way they could avoid the conversation altogether.

She reached the dungeon five minutes before the lesson was to start. She'd wanted to arrive before Severus, but he was already at their table, leafing absentmindedly through his Potions text. She slid into the seat beside him and could tell immediately that he hadn't forgotten what had happened the day before.

"Hi," she said tentatively, pulling her copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of her bag.

He turned a page, not looking at her. Lily bit her lip and pretended to search for something in her bag.

There was a crash near the front of the room, and a few voices erupted in laughter. James Potter had arrived with Sirius and Peter, and by the sound of it, they'd just broken an extremely expensive set of gold scales. While Sirius and Peter laughed uproariously, James mended the scales with a flick of his wand. He caught Lily's eye and winked before strolling to the back of the classroom. There was no trace of a limp in his confident stride.

 _So he went to Madam Pomfrey after all_ , she thought with a rush of vindication. Had he told his little gang about the unflattering way in which he'd injured his leg? Probably not; the story didn't paint him in a very good light. Then again, maybe they'd think it was funny that he'd been stupid enough to Levicorpus himself up to the top of the bell. There was no telling with boys.

Inspiration struck her, and she turned to Severus, who was doing his best to emanate an air of complete indifference to James' entrance. "You'll never guess what Potter did last night," she said, lowering her voice.

Severus raised his eyebrows slightly, but he continued to stare at his textbook. "Whatever it was, it's a pity he didn't break his neck in the process."

"He almost did, actually," she said, and she filled him in on what had happened in the belfry, making sure to emphasize just how stupid James had been. It didn't take much exaggeration, really.

By the time she had finished relating the whole story, Severus was making eye contact with her again, and there was the suggestion of a smile on his face. "Pity you felt the need to save him," he said. "I would have just used _Accelaro Momentum_ and let the chips fall where they may."

"It's the Gryffindor in me," sighed Lily, and Severus laughed. She turned to drape her bag over the back of her chair and stopped as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. James was watching her from the back of the classroom, no longer smiling.

Lily swallowed. He couldn't have overheard her, could he? Though she _had_ made some wild hand gestures when describing how he'd dropped like a rock through the belfry scaffolding. It probably wouldn't have been difficult for him to figure out what she'd been talking about.

She flashed him a tight-lipped smile, which he didn't return, and turned back to face the front of the class. _It's his own fault for being such a prat_ , she thought, trying to assuage her guilty conscience.

Professor Slughorn entered the room, his arms full of what looked to be some kind of flowering plant. "Hellebore," whispered Severus, and Lily nodded excitedly. Professor Slughorn dropped the wildflowers on his desk and removed his thick leather gloves before Vanishing the traces of dirt and leaves that had clung to his robes.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Slughorn genially, hushing the students who were still talking. "Lots to do today, though I daresay you'll have time enough to chat later. Today's lesson," he said, with a gesture towards the plants on the table, "will be on the various properties of hellebore."

He waved his wand, a large diagram of the plant appeared on the blackboard behind him. "As some of you may already know, hellebore is quite a versatile plant, containing an array of uses. The leaves, though toxic in large quantities, can treat paralysis and alleviate insanity. The flowers, on the other hand…"

As he continued to lecture, Lily's hand began to cramp from the sheer amount of notes she made on her parchment. Professor Slughorn wasn't wrong; hellebore had an astonishing number of effects in potion-making, depending on the ingredients used alongside it. Beside her, Severus listened attentively, jotting the occasional note in his Potions book.

At the conclusion of his lecture, Professor Slughorn tasked them with inventing a potion whose properties could be attributed to hellebore, and the room began to hum with activity.

"Well, we could make a poison, but that wouldn't be very subtle," said Lily, flipping through her textbook.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Everyone's going to make a poison. It's the most obvious option. We can do better than that."

"I wonder if we could do something related to Disillusionment," said Lily as she reviewed her notes. "Considering it can be used to cure insanity, which is a sort of mental illusion, right? If we could make that take a physical effect…"

"Interesting," said Severus, and he began to scribble a list on one of the blank pages at the back of his Potions book. "We'd have to account for the toxic side effects, of course, but that should be straightforward, if tedious."

"We might need to add lacewing flies, too, since they can enhance potions-based Transfigurations. What do you think?"

"Absolutely." Severus' quill flew across the page. "We also ought to use Devil's Snare as the anti-poison."

"You love using Devil's Snare," said Lily. "Think of something else we could use as the anti-poison."

"Why should I? If Devil's Snare is versatile, with minimal side-effects…"

Lily gave him an exasperated look, but she couldn't hide her smile. "Because Devil's Snare is native to South America, and hellebore is as common as my parentage, so we should use ingredients that match, alright?"

Severus winced at that, which surprised Lily; she had expected him to laugh.

"I wasn't aware we were trying to make a potion we could brew in Cokeworth," he said mildly, but he scratched the word 'Devil's Snare' off his list.

Lily narrowed her eyes before turning back to the parchment she had been scribbling on. He was acting as if he didn't understand she'd just made a Muggle-born joke. She couldn't fathom the reason why; she'd poked similar fun before and he'd found it amusing. Maybe her delivery had fallen flat. Maybe the political correctness of the Ministry was rubbing off on him.

 _Or maybe_ , she realized with a sinking feeling, _it's not so funny when you're in league with people who actually believe that rubbish_.

They continued working together, but something in the air between them had changed. Severus resisted her efforts to chat about anything other than their potion and continually steered the conversation back to the properties of hellebore.

At the end of the lesson, Slughorn prompted each table to stand and demonstrate on a rat what sort of potion they had created. Severus had been right; the majority of students had made poisons, finding no other use for hellebore. James Potter and Sirius Black, in particular, had invented a poison so lethal that their rat collapsed, paws twitching, after merely sniffing the fumes.

When it was Lily and Severus' turn to demonstrate, she was delighted to see that their rat went entirely translucent except for its tail, but Severus barely reacted. The bells signalling the end of the period rung, and Severus brushed past her with barely a muttered 'goodbye'.

A few of the other Slytherins were watching her with narrowed eyes as she packed her bag. Mulciber was among them, and in his expression was nothing friendly.

* * *

"So we can all agree that Snivellus is definitely a Death Eater now, right?" James asked his friends later that afternoon. They had just stopped by the hospital wing to pick up Remus, who looked slightly less peaky after having slept the entire day. "Judging by the way he kept making eyes at Mulciber during Potions?"

Sirius nodded. "If he isn't at least considering joining, I'll eat Sluggy's entire stock of hellebore."

"You should have seen him in class today, Moony," said Peter as Remus swallowed the last of the Invigoration Draught that Madam Pomfrey had pressed upon him. "He was working with Lily, and when they had to present together, he got all fidgety and acted like he didn't know her."

"I can't imagine that was very convincing," said Remus. "Considering they've been inseparable for years."

"Greasy, hook-nosed git," muttered James. "It was so disrespectful. I don't know why she keeps overlooking the fact that he's a slimeball."

"Some birds are like that, though," said Sirius, lifting a shoulder. "They give too many chances. It's a low self-esteem thing."

"Come off it," said James. "Evans isn't —"

"I think it has more to do with the fact that Snape's her childhood friend," said Remus. The potion appeared to be taking effect; there was a spring in his step as they rounded a corner. "It must be difficult to grow apart from someone you know so well."

"Setting Lily Evans aside for half a second," said Sirius impatiently, "are we all in agreement that our favourite Slytherin needs a little reminder about how to behave himself?"

"Absolutely," said James at once, and Peter nodded vigorously beside him. Remus raised his eyebrows, saying nothing, but there was a slight smile on his face.

At the bottom of the marble staircase, James and Sirius were debating the merits of turning Severus into a footstool when the door to the Great Hall slammed open. Lily was leaving the Great Hall in such a rush that she was struggling to sling her bag over her shoulder. She stopped short when she saw the four boys on the stairs.

"Lily," said Remus, surprised. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Just getting back to the common room," she said evasively. "If you'll excuse me…"

She tried to squeeze past them, but James put his arm out, blocking her path. "If you want to have dinner, you're going the wrong way," he said.

"I just ate," she said, but she wouldn't meet his eye. "And I have some work to do."

"It's awfully early to be finished eating already," commented Peter.

Lily flushed. "If you must know, there're some people in the Hall I'd rather not see, so I figured I'd just…"

"Sit in your dormitory and starve?" asked James.

"Something along those lines, yeah," she snapped. "Now would you let me through?"

"Why don't you come to dinner with us instead?" asked James. Behind him, Sirius let out a small groan.

Lily gave him a scathing look. "I just said I'm not interested in eating in the Great Hall, not that I'm surprised that you weren't listening, so…"

"Oh, we're not eating there either," said James, undeterred. "We're headed to the kitchens. It's something of a tradition on… days like these."

"The kitchens?" asked Lily, seemingly in spite of herself. "There are kitchens at Hogwarts?"

"Obviously," said Sirius. "Where else do you think the house-elves do the cooking?"

Lily's eyes grew even wider. "There are _house-elves_ at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, Lily," said Remus, stepping forward. He took her by the arm and she reluctantly allowed herself to be guided back down the wide stone steps. "Hogwarts has many secrets that are normally hidden to us rule-abiding prefects. Troublemakers such as James and Sirius, on the other hand…"

Sirius yawned and stretched his arms upward as they walked past the Great Hall and towards a door partially concealed by the marble staircase. "If you're from a family that keeps house-elves, it doesn't take a genius to figure out there must be some in Hogwarts, too. Who did you think made your bed every morning?"

Lily's brow furrowed. "I've never really thought about it. I assumed magic kept our dormitory looking nice."

"That's sweet," said James. "I love Muggle-borns, they're so innocent." Lily shot him a glare so sharp he was surprised it didn't cut him, and Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. James pulled door by the marble staircase open to reveal a flight of stone steps descending into darkness. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing Lily forward.

At the bottom of the steps was a wide, dimly lit corridor with large paintings of food hanging on its walls. "You'll want the second painting from the end," Sirius told Lily. "The one with the bowl of fruit."

"Is there a password?" she asked, walking up to the painting in question.

"None that we've found," said James. "You just tickle the pear." He touched the canvas gently, wiggling his fingers. The pear laughed and began to spin, turning into a large brass doorknob. James pulled at the doorknob and the canvas swung aside, revealing the entrance to the kitchens.

The room was huge, with a large brick fireplace roaring at one end and four long wooden tables in the middle, mirroring the Great Hall. House-elves scurried around the room like mice, brandishing all manner of cookware and utensils and leaping over each other in their haste to prepare food on each of the long tables.

Lily's mouth was slightly open. "How on earth did you find this place?"

Sirius winked at her. "Trade secret, Evans. Oy, Mimsy!"

A tiny house-elf ran up to them and bowed deeply. There was a tartan cloth wrapped around its head, pinning its ears away from its face. "Master Black and his friends are right on time!" it squeaked. It noticed Lily, and its eyes grew large as saucers. "And Master Black has brought a guest!"

"Master _Potter_ has brought a guest," corrected James.

Lily frowned. "Actually, I'm here at Master Lupin's invitation." She beamed at Remus, who smiled cheerily back at her.

James glowered. "You git," he said, elbowing Remus. "You better thank your lucky tea leaves you're a recovering invalid…"

Mimsy the house-elf guided them to a small table by the fire, which was laid out with roasted chicken, glazed pork loin, a variety of potatoes and vegetables, and an enormous tankard of butterbeer. There were already five places set.

"This is amazing," said Lily. She heaped some chicken onto her plate and watched the house-elves scamper from table to table. "I had no idea… and they're so _cute_! I'm surprised you lot ever eat in the Great Hall, if this is the service you get in the kitchens…"

"Er, yeah, we don't want to take them away from their duties," said James as nobly as he could manage through a mouthful of pork loin. Beside him, Sirius rolled his eyes.

"How often do you come down here?" asked Lily.

James' eyes flickered to Remus, who had already finished his first plate and was helping himself to seconds.

"Just whenever we need a little pick-me-up," said Remus, tearing into a chicken thigh. "I imagine you feel the same today. Who were you trying to avoid, by the way?"

Lily sighed. "Who do you think?"

"Aw, Lily," said Peter, "you shouldn't avoid Marlene just because she got better marks than you on the Defence essay. There's plenty of room in Gryffindor for two talented witches…"

Sirius barked a laugh, and even Lily smiled a little. "You know it was Sev," she said.

James' expression darkened. _Of course_. He should have guessed.

Lily used her fork to push at the last of the potatoes on her plate. "I got to the Great Hall early, and I sat at the Hufflepuff table, 'cause I figured—"

"No man's land," said Sirius, and Lily nodded.

"But then Sev came in with Avery and that _creep_ Mulciber, and he pretended not to see me but I know he did. And then —" she hesitated. "There's this spell he invented, that we use when making Potions… basically, it Vanishes bones, so that if you have to add a newt or something, it dissolves easier? But after they sat down I saw Mulciber take out his wand and point it at the roast chicken and… he de-boned the entire thing." She looked like she was about to cry. "I don't know why Sev would have told someone like Mulciber about that spell. It's not like — I mean, it's harmless when we use it during class, but Mulciber…"

"He doesn't strike me as the type to want to improve his Potions marks," said Sirius darkly, and Remus nodded in agreement. James said nothing, but his frown grew deeper. What was Severus playing at, sucking up to Mulciber?

Lily continued. "You've all heard what Mulciber says about — about people like me. If that's who Severus wants to be around... I just don't know how to reconcile that," she said, staring down into her lap. "He says he's just trying to keep the peace — be friends with me and his House — "

"That's a load of steaming dragon dung," interrupted James furiously. "There are plenty of Slytherins who are — maybe not good people, but at least basically harmless. He's _choosing_ to cosy up to Mulciber. You heard what that piece of filth said to you in Pippin's the other day, he's swallowed all that pure-blood garbage, and I don't know where Snivellus gets off —"

"Don't call him that," said Lily sharply, looking up. "I know he's not perfect, but —"

"What should I call him instead? Spineless Snape? Sir Severus, noble Knight of Walpurgis?"

"James..." cautioned Remus, with a look at Lily, whose face was becoming as red as her hair.

"Or maybe," said James, speaking over him, "We should call him what he is, a future Death Eater who doesn't deserve one ounce of affection from you or from anyone — "

Pain seared through his hand, and he broke off, swearing loudly. The mug of butterbeer he'd been holding had shattered. He glanced at Lily, whose hair was standing on end as if crackling with electricity.

Lily stood, shaking with fury. "Sorry. Accident."

So she couldn't even control her magic when she was angry. What was she, twelve? James sucked at the cut on his thumb. "No worries," he said flatly.

The foaming yellow liquid spilt over the edge of the table, and a group of house-elves, rags in hand, rushed to clean up the mess.

"I'm sorry," Lily said stiffly to Mimsy, who had climbed onto her chair in an effort to wipe off the table. "Didn't mean to do that. I should get going, anyway. Thank you for the food, Mimsy. And Remus," she said, completely ignoring James, who had opened his mouth to speak, "thank you for the invite."

She slung her bag roughly over her shoulder and stormed out of the kitchen. A number of house-elf heads turned to watch her leave.

"Master Potter has upset the young miss!" squeaked Mimsy, waggling a thin finger at James.

"Yeah, was that really necessary?" asked Sirius. He leaned back in his chair as he watched the house-elves clean up the spilt butterbeer.

James ran both hands roughly through his hair, making it look messier than ever. "Sorry," he said, directing the apology at Sirius, who merely shrugged.

"I'm not the one who fancies her, mate. Anyway —" Sirius checked his watch, which was strapped to his wrist with a leather band and had hands pointing to Roman numerals instead of runes. It was so obviously Muggle-made that it stood out as clearly as if it had twelve faces and a phoenix replica that chimed the hour. "It's nearly sunset, so we should say the incantation. Wands out, yeah?"

* * *

Later that week, Severus was eating breakfast alone in the Great Hall when an intimidatingly large eagle owl landed on the table in front of him. It shook its massive wings and cocked its head at Severus, staring at him with piercing yellow eyes. An unlabelled envelope was tied to its leg.

Severus looked around, certain that the owl was meant to deliver the letter to one of the other students sitting at the Slytherin table, but nobody else was paying it any attention.

The eagle owl tapped one of its long black talons impatiently on the table, like a bored bank teller. It held out its leg haughtily as if it had better things to be doing, and Severus untied the envelope. It was sealed with a dollop of black wax and felt heavy in his hands. Without another sound, the owl flapped its enormous wings and took off as quickly as it had arrived.

Severus opened the envelope. Inside was a single square of thick parchment with only a few lines written on it in vivid green ink.

 _Congratulations_ , read the letter in tall, slanting handwriting. _You have been selected as one of our newest Intents. Please join us in Dungeon Thirteen on the second Saturday of March to learn more about your role as an Intent. Midnight. Tell no one_. It was signed with a large, looping _L_.

Severus glanced down the table. Mulciber was holding a similar square of parchment, looking quite smug, and Avery appeared to have just finished tucking something into his bag. At the far end of the table, Bella was watching him, and upon catching his eye she gave Severus a broad smile and a wave, nodding approvingly at the letter he was holding.

Despite his best efforts to slip away from the Great Hall and go to Charms unnoticed, Bella caught up with him as he ascended the stairs to the third floor.

"Did you like it?" she asked excitedly, grabbing him by the arm. Severus resisted the impulse to shake her off. "I actually wrote most of the invitations myself, Lucius has terrible handwriting. I gave you the eagle owl on purpose," she added with a wink. "Mulciber got a pygmy owl, the troll. He _did_ end up using your de-boning spell, by the way. On a cat." She rolled her eyes. "No imagination whatsoever. I wish we didn't have to include him at all, but he'd be a legacy, so…"

Severus shrugged and skipped over a trick step in the staircase they were climbing. "Are you an Intent too?"

"Me? Oh, no." Bella shook her head. A ringlet of hair fell haphazardly into her face and she brushed it back with a hand. "I'm already a Secondary. The Dark Lord considers me practically a Primary, though. I think he's waiting until I graduate to Mark me."

Severus considered this as they reached the landing for the third floor. Bella turned to face him. "You don't seem very excited," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "You're not smirking or gloating or anything."

"I'm just thinking," Severus said. He glanced at the students around them and Bella followed his gaze, her brow furrowed. She grabbed his arm again — he really hated this much physical contact — and dragged him down the corridor, ducking into an alcove hidden by an old tapestry depicting a unicorn hunt.

"So?" she demanded. The alcove was so small that their foreheads were practically touching.

Severus met her gaze without blinking as he composed his response. "You told me we were alike," he said finally. "Surely you know the reason I'm less than thrilled."

Comprehension dawned on Bella's face. "Is it that Mudblood girl you hang around with? You think she won't approve?" She laughed, seeming relieved. "I have a simple solution for you, Sev. _Don't tell her what you're doing_."

"I can't just lie to her," said Severus. "She's not stupid. And I don't want to lose her as a friend."

"Oh, that'll happen regardless," said Bella dismissively. "Honestly, you _will_ have to choose between her and us at some point, but when the time comes, the choice will be easy. It will be!" she insisted when he looked at her sceptically. "There is so much opportunity here for you. To learn magic, _real_ magic, without the limitations Dumbledore puts on us, that silly old has-been. To form connections, and make friends —"

"I have friends," snapped Severus.

"You have one friend, which is pathetic," said Bella casually. Severus winced. She leaned in closer — she really was quite a bit taller than him — and put her hand on the back of his neck. "You need to stop this self-sabotage and trust that Intenting will be good for you. I see your potential, and I am on your side. Don't make me regret taking an interest in you."

With that, she released him and strode out of the alcove.

Even though he was surely late to Charms by now, Severus couldn't bring himself to move from where he was planted. As he stared at the tapestry fluttering behind her, he rubbed the back of his neck, which was still tingling from her touch.


	4. Win, Lose and Draw

Lily burst into her dormitory, startling the other girls as she stormed through the room and began to rummage noisily through the trunk at the foot of her bed. "Of _course_ I'm out of rue," she muttered, rifling through the jumble of books, parchment, and satchels of varying sizes contained in her trunk.

"What's wrong?" asked Mary MacDonald. She and Marlene McKinnon were sitting together on her bed, swapping Charms notes and comparing essays. Across the room, Parvana Patil was lying on her back in bed, wand pointed at a set of miniature Quidditch figures that were zooming around in the air above her. "You seem a little… how can I put this…"

"Stressed out?" Marlene said, and Mary nodded.

Lily sighed and turned to look at them. "Two words," she said. "James. Potter."

Mary made a sympathetic noise and Marlene's mouth quirked up at the corner.

"What's he done now?" asked Parvana, sitting up and using her wand to direct the Quidditch figurines back into a velvet pouch.

"You know how Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff this weekend?" asked Lily.

"How could we forget?" said Marlene, sharing a glance with Parvana, who was also on the Quidditch team. "James' been working us half to death doing drills. He's mad about winning the Cup."

"Exactly," said Lily. "This morning during breakfast, he also managed to make every student at the Hufflepuff table roar like a lion. Every. Student."

"Probably tampered with the pumpkin juice," said Mary sagely. "It's always the pumpkin juice."

"Those poor Hufflepuffs," said Marlene, who looked like she was struggling not to smile. "That sounds awful."

"It was!" exclaimed Lily. "Because when we — the other prefects — tried to reverse the charm, we weren't able to, and we tried _everything_. Just imagine, the Hufflepuffs roaring louder and louder as they got more and more panicked about not being able to talk…"

"Wow, that actually sounds like fun," said Mary. "Remind me not to skip breakfast anymore, Marly."

"Wait a minute," said Parvana. "How do you know it was James who did it, and not some other Gryffindor fanatic?"

"Easy," said Lily. "He came over and told me he'd let me in on the countercharm if I agreed to go out with him."

"Ah," said Marlene. "Definitely James, then."

"He is such a brute," sighed Mary, pulling a brush through her wavy brown hair. "A handsome, talented, charming _brute_ …"

Lily rolled her eyes. "He's not even that good-looking. Sirius Black is leagues above him in that department…"

"Ooh, someone fancies Sirius," teased Marlene, patting the bed to indicate Lily should join them. "Come sit, we can gossip about Gryffindor boys and copy each other's homework, it'll be fun."

Lily laughed, shaking her head. "I wish, but I can't right now, Marly, I've got to go — "

"But it's free period!" said Mary.

"I've got that project for Slughorn I need to work on," said Lily, sighing. "Honestly, if I'd known at the start of the year that it would take up so much time, I don't think I'd have even started. The potion I'm trying to brew is _so_ finicky."

"Yeah, but you'll definitely get extra points on your O.W.L.s," said Parvana, and Mary nodded her agreement. "It'll be worth it when you get an Outstanding."

"At this point, I'd rather take an E if it meant I got hours of my non-existent free time back."

"Aw, it can't be _that_ bad," said Marlene, running her hands through her short, choppy blonde hair and making it stand up at the ends. "Brewing potions is just following instructions, right? Tedious, confusing instructions, mind you, but all the same…"

"This one's different," Lily said, hesitating. Slughorn had impressed upon her the importance of secrecy when it came to this potion, considering how easily it could be misused if it fell into the wrong hands. Still, she knew the other girls in her year were trustworthy, even if she wasn't as close with them as she was to Severus. "Look, don't spread it around, alright, but… I'm trying to make Felix Felicis."

Parvana's eyes widened. Mary yelped and clapped a hand over her mouth. "You are _joking_!"

"Merlin's soiled pants," swore Marlene. "You're not actually planning on _using_ it during your Potions O.W.L., right?"

"Of course not!" said Lily quickly. "It really is just to impress the examiners. But it's so finicky, it keeps going off because it's really sensitive to atmospheric changes and the phases of the moon. I keep trying to correct it with common rue, but you need to use a bucketload to have any sort of effect, and it's just…"

"Miserable?" asked Marlene, and Lily nodded.

"Makes me glad I'm going for a job in Muggle Relations," said Mary, rolling onto her stomach. "No more Potions after this year! It'll be great."

"Right," said Marlene sarcastically. "You'll be able to spend all your time answering questions about what a lightbulb is instead, what a great trade."

Mary leaned over and jostled Marlene's shoulder in retaliation, causing Marlene to spill ink all over the bedsheets.

"Low blow, MacDonald!" said Marlene, reaching for her wand. " _Evanesco —_ oh, bugger — I swear that was an accident… " The force of her cleaning spell had not only removed the ink from the bed, but also wiped Mary's parchment clean.

"Oh, it's fine, I'll just have to copy yours now," said Mary happily. "You're a better writer than me, anyway. Lily, you're sure you don't want to study with us? Marlene could ruin your essay too, it'd be a laugh…"

"Tempting," said Lily, smiling. "But I really think I should go look for some more common rue."

"So diligent," sighed Mary. "It's a character trait I'll never possess, going into Muggle Relations and all…"

Marlene snorted. "Oh, by the way, Lily," she said. "Since you're going on grounds, would you mind looking for Fletcher while you're out? We haven't seen him in a week or so, and I'm wondering if he got sidetracked again by the large amount of raw meat Hagrid keeps in his hut."

"Oh, sure," said Lily. Fletcher was Mary and Marlene's shared cat; they had adopted him together after second year and were especially proud of having trained him to deliver letters like an owl. Being a cat, he wasn't very efficient at it, and they often went large stretches without seeing him, but he was generally capable of bringing the Sunday edition of the _Daily Prophet_ up from Hogsmeade's post office. "I'll let you know if I find him."

She bid her friends goodbye and left the dormitory, making her way through the castle and out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. It was early March, and the weather was just warm and sunny enough to make Lily hopeful that spring really was on its way. She meandered towards the edge of the lake, and as she passed the last of the greenhouses she heard a familiar voice.

"Lily — wait up!"

Turning, she saw Severus jogging towards her, stuffing some papers roughly into his bag, which was falling off of his shoulder.

"Hi," she said warily as he caught up to her. She hadn't seen much of him recently, as he had practically stopped eating meals in the Great Hall altogether and was never in any of their regular meeting places.

"Where are you going?" he asked, falling into step with her.

"Why do you want to know?" she said coolly. "Thought you were tired of hanging around me."

"That's not — I…" spluttered Severus. "I've been busy, alright?"

"Busy with your new mates? With Mulciber?"

"He's not — They're not — " Severus stopped himself, his cheeks turning red. "Look, I wanted to apologize. I know I haven't been a great friend to you recently."

"No, you haven't," agreed Lily. "I don't appreciate it when my best friend starts avoiding me without telling me why."

"I wouldn't either," he said, his thin shoulders drooping. "But I won't disappear anymore. It's just…"

"Just what, Sev? What's your excuse this time?"

"I'm not trying to make excuses!" he said hurriedly. "Honestly, I'm not. And I haven't been hanging out with my 'mates', as you call them. I've been spending time alone. I've needed to think."

"About what?"

"About where my life is going. About what I want to do after Hogwarts. And — don't say 'I told you so' — about the people in Slytherin who want to be my friend all of a sudden."

"Do you want to be _their_ friend?" asked Lily. They had reached the edge of the lake, and as they walked she scoured the banks for common rue.

Severus shrugged. "Not really. But I don't know how to say so without causing more trouble. What are you looking for?"

"Why don't you want to cause trouble?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"If you're looking for bladderwort I could lend you some, I've got loads."

"I'm not looking for bladderwort," she said. Severus sighed, and they continued walking in silence.

"I made you something," he said at last. "To make up for being a bad friend."

She glanced at him in spite of herself. He really did look sorry. "What is it?"

Severus pulled his wand out from the sleeve of his robes. "I call it the Langlock Jinx. It glues the victim's tongue to the roof of their mouth. I thought it might be useful the next time Potter is harassing you."

Lily smiled. "I could have used that this morning, with the Hufflepuffs, actually. Were you in the Great Hall during breakfast?"

"No, but I heard about it. Emma Vanity told me."

"Oh, it was _awful_ , Sev, and of course we couldn't figure out how to make them stop roaring, and then Potter said he'd tell me if I went out with him…"

Severus' mouth twisted in disgust, but something like nervousness gleamed in his black eyes. "What did you say?"

"Of course I said no! I'd date a troll before I went out with Potter."

"That's an offence against trolls," said Severus, relaxing a little. "They can't help being large and stupid. Some people actually prefer that in a mate, you know."

"True," she agreed, laughing. "Though I've never understood — oh, look, rue!" She ran over to a clump of wildflowers growing at the foot of a large oak tree whose branches extended over the lake. She pulled a small knife and a handkerchief out of her bag and cut a generous handful before wrapping it up delicately, without letting the flowers touch her skin.

"Rue?" asked Severus, amused. " _That's_ what you wouldn't tell me you were looking for?"

Lily's cheeks turned pink. "Well, I was angry!"

"But we passed a patch of rue ages ago. I thought about pointing it out, but I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Oh… did we?" asked Lily, tucking her bundle back into her bag. "That teaches me to get distracted. You didn't happen to notice a fat tabby cat running around either, did you?"

"No, why?"

"Fletcher is missing. Mary and Marlene's cat? He runs off all the time, so it isn't too unusual, but I told them I'd keep an eye out just in case." She glanced at Severus, who looked a little pale. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, turning away from her. "Back to the castle, then, since you've found what you were looking for?"

Lily stretched, turning her face up towards the sun. "Let's stay out here a bit more, at least till lunch. You can teach me the Langlock without anyone butting in."

Severus nodded and the two settled down on the grassy bank, throwing clods of dirt into the lake and taking turns pointing their wands at each other, laughing. When the bells signalling the end of the period began to toll, they took their time walking back up to the castle for lunch, and upon entering the Great Hall, they sat together at the Hufflepuff table without even discussing it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

There was dew on the ground the morning of the match against Hufflepuff, and James could feel the sun warming his back as he led the Gryffindor team down to the Quidditch field.

"Right," he said after they had all changed into their scarlet Quidditch robes. "Hufflepuff's going to be a decent match for us this time around. They've got a great Seeker and a decent Keeper, but their Chasers are hopeless, which is good news for us. Our strategy going in is to score as many points as possible as quickly as possible, in case they catch the Snitch first. Marlene and Otis, you're aiming your Bludgers at the Hufflepuff Chasers unless you hear me say otherwise. Parvana, don't look for the Snitch yourself unless their Seeker is distracted. Stay on his tail."

Parvana nodded in agreement and James pulled on his gloves. Outside the locker room, Madam Hooch whistled, signaling that the match was about to start.

"We can do this," said James. "Make me proud out there." He picked up his broom, and the rest of the team followed suit.

The sun blinded him as he stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes as he took in the stadium. The stands were packed with students wearing crimson and gold on one end and yellow and black on the other. Many of them waved banners or scarves, and there was a cheer of approval as the two teams lined up in the centre of the pitch.

"Captains, shake hands," said Madam Hooch, and James stepped forward to shake the hand of the Hufflepuff Captain and Keeper, Frank Longbottom, a seventh-year who was much taller than he was. The two teams mounted their brooms, and with a screech from Madam Hooch's whistle, they took to the air.

"And they're off," announced Sirius Black, sounding bored. He was almost as much of a Quidditch fanatic as James, but he'd been suspended from the team after the previous year's final, during which he'd managed to rack up a record number of fouls against Slytherin. Professor McGonagall, in a rare moment of weakness, had allowed Sirius to take up Quidditch commentary for the duration of his year's suspension, a decision she had immediately and obviously regretted. "Took them long enough, but Potter probably got caught up doing his hair. Look at how tousled it is. It's flawless."

James grinned as he caught the Quaffle and tucked it under his arm. He nudged his broom forward, speeding towards the Hufflepuff hoops.

"Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle, Potter passes to Peregrine Flint — good thinking on his part, don't want that hair getting _too_ windswept — Flint to Suzuki, and I can't believe they've outflown _all_ of the Hufflepuff Chasers already. Hufflepuff might actually be as full of utter dullards as everyone believes, judging by these flying skills — alright, too far, sorry Professor McGonagall — sorry, Hufflepuff, you know I love you all — it's Suzuki against Longbottom now, and she shoots — and…" Sirius groaned. "Longbottom makes the save, no surprises there, though, he's practically the size of Hagrid. Suzuki should try going in between his legs next time, she'd probably fit… that _wasn't_ innuendo, Professor, that was an innocent joke, but the whole stadium's thinking it now —"

Within the first fifteen minutes, Gryffindor had scored twice, but they made three more attempts on the goal that were easily blocked by Longbottom. Meanwhile, the two Seekers hovered far above the pitch, zigzagging back and forth as they attempted to spot the Snitch.

"Another great save, courtesy of Longbottom… Gryffindor needs to pull Suzuki, she's too timid with her shots. James, mate, send someone else out who can shove Longbottom off his broom… hang on, Eustace Fawley, the Hufflepuff Seeker, is doing something interesting. _Finally_ , it's been, what, twenty minutes?… Anyway, I assume he's seen the Snitch, he's speeding down, Gryffindor Seeker Patil catching up and… oh, ouch…"

James could hear the collision from across the pitch and grimaced. Parvana was normally fairly reserved, but when playing Quidditch she was an absolute daredevil, making dramatic plays that even he found risky. Not that he would ever dream of telling her to tone it down.

Sirius' voice came on over the magical megaphone. "Patil absolutely steams into Fawley — that _wasn't_ innuendo, Professor, it's just the way my voice sounds, you know I can't help that — alright, moving on, looks like Patil's deliberately crashed into him, knocking him off course but taking a nasty beating herself in the process… Madam Hooch considering calling a penalty, decides against it — and it looks like Fawley's lost the Snitch. Shame, too, since this match is a Seeker's to win…"

A Bludger knocked the Quaffle out of the hands of one of the Hufflepuff Chasers. Peregrine Flint dived, caught the ball and passed it to James, who sped down the pitch, approaching Hufflepuff's goalposts. Longbottom was hovering in the air in front of him, arms bent at the elbow, ready to catch the Quaffle —

"Potter shoots — NO! He FEINTS! And he SCORES!" There was a roar from Gryffindor's side of the stands. "THAT is how you play Quidditch! James, mate, that was a work of art!"

The Gryffindor Chasers, buoyed by James' success, managed to score four more times in the next half hour, while Hufflepuff scored twice. "Seventy-twenty in favor of Gryffindor," announced Sirius, not bothering to stifle a huge yawn. He had a tendency to become loudly bored when the matches were not exciting enough. "Hufflepuff in possession — not for long, though, judging by the angle on that Bludger…"

The Bludger whacked one of the Hufflepuff Chasers on the back of the head, causing him to drop the Quaffle. James dived, twisting on his broom so that he was upside-down, and he caught the Quaffle as it slammed into his chest. Righting his broom, he swerved around one of the Hufflepuff Beaters, towards Longbottom, who was waiting for him —

A flash of gold glinted in the hoop to Longbottom's left.

"Parvana!" bellowed James, throwing the Quaffle as hard as he could at the hoop to the right.

Longbottom lunged to the side, and the motion seemed to startle the Snitch, which shot upward. Parvana had already begun to dive, though, and she met the Snitch at the goalposts, barreling through the middle hoop as her fingers closed around the fluttering golden ball.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room that evening was full to bursting with students celebrating their victory over Hufflepuff. Crimson and gold confetti rained down from the ceiling, getting in hair and on robes and accumulating underfoot like snow. At one end of the room, a table was set up with food and drinks — mostly Butterbeer, along with a few scattered bottles that smelled of something stronger. Sally Dearborn, a sixth year and Gryffindor's resident artist, had hung a massive, enchanted poster over the fireplace, which flickered as it depicted the highlights of the match.

James was sitting with a group by the fire, one arm draped around the back of the couch and the other holding a large silver goblet full of amber liquid. Taking a drink, he felt a warmth begin in his stomach and spread up his chest and to his neck. He passed the goblet to Sirius, who was sitting at his feet, shoulder-to-shoulder with Parvana. Sirius took a long pull from the goblet and then whooped, jumping to his feet and pulling Parvana up with him. "Who wants to duel?" he asked, his eyes bright. A few students cheered; some shook their heads, smiling. "Parvana, fancy a go?"

"Sure," she said, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. "Don't cry when I steam into you, too, though."

"Phrasing!" cried Sirius, looking elated. "Don't let McGonagall hear. What say you, James?"

"'Course I'm in."

"Don't forget about me!" said a voice at his side. Marlene had joined them, her cheeks flushed and her short blonde hair sticking up in all directions. "Yoo-hoo," she called, waving to a table in the corner. James' stomach gave a jolt; Lily was sitting there with a couple of friends, clutching a mug of Butterbeer.

"Come on, Lil," said Marlene. "Make us proud."

Sirius raised his eyebrows as Lily slid off her chair to join the group. "Well, well. I didn't know you liked duelling, Evans."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." There was a mischievous light dancing in her emerald eyes, and James had to force himself not to stare.

In the end, it was decided that there would be a tournament, and couches and armchairs were shoved to the sides of the room to clear enough space for the duelers. Sirius declared himself both referee and contestant, and announced that only fifth-years and up would duel, much to the disappointment of the younger students. This ended up being for the best; even among the upper years, most of the students were quite bad at duelling. The majority of matches ended after only a couple of hexes, although Otis Podmore pulled off a Shield Charm to general applause, and Peter managed to Disarm Parvana in an upset that had the whole room shouting and stamping their feet.

In the second round, Marlene faced off against Remus, and James noticed Lily biting her nails as she watched. Marlene was quick and fierce, weaving from side to side as she fired off hexes one after the other. Remus, on the other hand, parried her spells with a certain deliberateness, his wand movements steady and sure. Finally, he found an opening and hit her with a Knockback Jinx with such strength that Marlene was lifted off her feet. As she flew through the air, however, she managed to cast a Stunning Spell that rendered Remus unconscious before she slammed into the wall, resulting in Sirius calling the match a draw.

Lily and Peter went next. To James' surprise, she won handily, casting a Full-Body Bind on Peter after he fumbled a Shield Charm.

"If I didn't know better," James mumbled to Peter, helping him off the floor, "I'd say you threw the match on purpose."

Peter's ears reddened. "I — er — thought you might want the chance to duel her yourself. If you win this round, that is."

James grinned. "You're a pal, you know that?" He clapped Peter on the back and stepped into the centre of the room to face off against Sirius, who quirked an eyebrow as James pulled his wand from the pocket of his jeans.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Sirius, signalling for the room to quiet down, "the final match of the second round. Will the victor be the devilishly handsome, the most noble, the most refined House of Black? Or will it be House Potter, the boyish firebrand who could really use a haircut, not to mention a shag?"

"Keep talking, Black," said James, aware of Lily's eyes on him. "Time to put a Galleon where your mouth is, I think. _Aurum rumina!_ "

Sirius retched, doubling over as coins poured first from his mouth, and then his ears. James fired off his next hex, but Sirius twirled his wand and cast a nonverbal Shield Charm, deflecting the hex. Protected by the strength of his Shield Charm, Sirius passed the tip of his wand over his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. Immediately, the coins vanished, and Sirius straightened up, grinning somewhat madly. He Vanished his Shield Charm and advanced on James, slashing his wand through the air.

James had to roll to avoid Sirius' curse, grabbing a handful of confetti off the ground as he did so. Coming to his feet, he tossed the confetti above his head. " _Alliago_!" he yelled, and the confetti turned into tiny red and gold darts which hung motionless in the air for a moment before accelerating towards Sirius, who dove out of the way.

Their duel continued, equal parts playful and earnest. Sirius' spells were stronger, but James was the more clever fighter. After one of Sirius' curses grazed James' shoulder, James retaliated by Transfiguring the rug beneath their feet into a large red net, which wrapped itself around Sirius' legs, causing him to fall over and the wand to clatter from his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there you have it," said Sirius, panting as he scrambled into a sitting position. "Having narrowly defeated the daring and able House of Black, Potter advances to the finals, where he will face the formidable Lily Evans. Peter, if you'd be so kind as to bring me another firewhisky, House Black would owe you a life debt…"

"Last chance to forfeit, Evans," said James, grinning at Lily as she stepped into the middle of the room. "I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're the prettiest witch this side of the Black Lake."

To his surprise, Lily didn't get angry; instead, she smiled and extended her hand for him to shake.

"May the best wizard win," she said. "Or witch, as the case may be."

Sirius took a swig from the silver goblet and pressed his wand to his throat, amplifying his voice so that he could be heard over the crowd. "Lily Evans, James Potter, are you ready?"

James nodded, his eyes fixed on Lily, who stood across the room from him. A small, unexplainable smile still danced around her lips.

"You may draw your wands," said Sirius. "On my mark…"

James moved before Lily had a chance to react. " _Calvario_!" She ducked, narrowly missing the bolt of silver light that had emitted from his wand. Spinning, she brought her wand over her head and pointed it at him with both hands. She narrowed her eyes, murmuring under her breath, and a web of electricity streamed from the end of her wand, reaching James, encompassing him…

" _Arania alliago_!" shouted James, and the web collapsed in on itself before reforming into an enormous, shimmering spider, its limbs crackling with electricity as it advanced on Lily.

" _Arania recanto_!" she cried, waving her wand, and the spider vanished with a _crack_ like a lightning bolt. She threw three more spells at James in quick succession, but in the time it had taken her to deal with the spider, he had gotten a Shield Charm off, and all of her spells ricocheted uselessly away. Lily swore in frustration and slashed her wand through the air like a sword, sending a barrage of hexes towards James which did nothing more than glance off his Shield Charm.

James grinned, making a show of putting his hands behind his head as a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx cracked his Shield Charm. "By the way, Evans. Wanna go out with me?"

"In — your — _dreams —_ " She punctuated her words with one spell after another, until finally his Shield Charm shattered under the barrage of hexes.

"Ah, but that wasn't a 'no'," he said, dodging her Trip Jinx and casting a Tickling Charm, which curved in midair to hit Lily between the ribs. She fell to the floor, clutching her sides with laughter. As he advanced on her, however, she pointed her wand at him despite her helpless giggles, and her eyes narrowed in concentration. A jet of water shot out of the tip of her wand, barreling towards him.

 _Godric's teeth_ , he thought. Of course she was good at nonverbal spellcasting.

" _Glacius_ ," he said quickly, and the jet of water froze in midair. " _Reducto_."

The ice exploded, sending millions of shards flying in all directions. Lily's laughter turned into a shriek, and she barely managed to roll out of the way. James waved his wand, muttering an incantation, and the ice shards rose off the ground, coming together to form an enormous bouquet of sculpted roses. With another flourish of his wand, the roses turned a glistening pink.

"For a maiden most fair," he said, bowing as he offered her the icy bouquet. "Though the colour might clash with your hair, I'm afraid."

Lily got shakily to her feet, still hiccuping from James' Tickling Charm. "You know what your problem is, Potter?"

"I'm too clever by half?"

"You talk too much," she said. " _Langlock_!"

James felt his tongue stick itself to the roof of his mouth. Spluttering, he pointed his wand at her, trying to pronounce a hex, _any_ hex. Maybe a Stunning Spell would work —

" _Thubeby!_ " A pathetic shower of sparks emitted from his wand, and Lily tilted her head to one side, amused.

James could hear the crowd's cheers — Sirius' whoops were drowning out the others — and his shoulders sagged. He had always been shite at nonverbal spells, but maybe he could pull off something simple. Concentrating as hard as he could, he tried to disarm her nonverbally.

Lily's wand twitched in her hand, and she looked down at it and then back at him, grinning. His heart sank as he tried to pull his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Sev is really quite clever, isn't he?" she asked, advancing until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Separated only by the bouquet of roses, which was beginning to melt in his hands, she was so close he could see a tiny speckle in her left eye. His pulse quickened even as his thoughts slowed to a stop. She was _right there_ —

Lily smiled angelically. She pressed her wand to his chest.

" _Depulso_!"

James felt the bouquet shatter into a thousand pieces as he was thrown across the room, skidding into one of the couches as the crowd thundered their applause. Lily was still smiling as he staggered to his feet. Without saying a word, she raised her arm into the air and he felt his wand leave his grip, flying across the room and settling effortlessly into her outstretched hand.

* * *

Severus sat on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he watched Mulciber move silently about the darkened dormitory. It was nearly midnight — nearly time to meet Lucius in Dungeon Thirteen. Mulciber cast a derisive glance at him as he pulled his robes on.

"You coming or what?"

Severus shrugged, but he picked up his wand from the bedside table and stood up, following Mulciber out of the dormitory. Avery was waiting for them outside the Slytherin common room.

"How were prefect rounds?" asked Mulciber, yawning loudly.

"Fine," said Avery, tucking his prefect's badge into his robes. "Loads of Gryffindors celebrating their big Quidditch win by shagging each other behind tapestries. Not your girl, though," he added, glancing at Severus. "Reckon she stayed in her common room like a good little teacher's pet."

Mulciber snorted as the three set off into the labyrinth-like dungeons. "Do you know where we're going, Severus?"

"I have an idea."

"Really?" said Avery, glancing at either end of the corridor. "I don't know about you, but _my_ invitation said to meet in Dungeon Thirteen, which is inconvenient, since Hogwarts only has twelve dungeons."

"Right," said Severus sarcastically. "Lucius just happened to organize a meeting in a room that doesn't exist."

"Lead the way, then, if you're so sure," said Mulciber, shoving Severus ahead of him. Severus cast them both a scathing look but kept walking.

Avery began to protest once he realized where they were going. "But Dungeon Twelve is _that way_! We're going in the wrong direction!"

"Did the invitation say to meet in Dungeon Twelve?" asked Severus.

"Well, no, but — "

"Then why, in the name of Salazar's serpent, would we go to Dungeon Twelve?"

"Erm," said Avery. "Because thirteen comes after twelve?"

Severus couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes. " _Thirteen comes after twelve_. Brilliantly reasoned, Avery."

"What's your great plan, then?" demanded Mulciber. "Because it looks like you're planning on leading us out of the dungeons entirely — "

"Avery," said Severus, cutting Mulciber off, "While you were rounding, did you happen to notice the Wandering Stairs anywhere?"

"Oh!" said Avery. "Yeah, I did. It's on the third floor tonight, by the Charms corridor."

"Perfect," said Severus as the trio ascended the marble staircase, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Once they reached the third floor landing, Severus heard Mulciber mutter _,_ " _Lumos,"_ and a dim light illuminated the dusty corridor in front of them.

"This way," said Avery, pushing Severus aside as he strode up to the brass doorknob that jutted out from the stones in the wall. He twisted the doorknob and the wall swung open. Avery ushered the other two inside as if using the Wandering Stairs had been his idea, and Severus fought the urge to hex Avery's prefect's badge up his nose.

"Dungeon Thirteen," said Mulciber confidently. The torches on the walls dimmed for a moment, as if the staircase was hesitating, and then Severus felt the ground under his feet shake slightly as a light appeared at the top of the stairs.

"That _worked_?!" exclaimed Avery. "I don't believe it!"

"I knew there was a reason we kept you around, Sev," said Mulciber, and Severus twitched. Hearing Lily's nickname for him out of Mulciber's mouth made him want to curse something.

They reached the top of the stairs and stepped into what looked like a posh sitting room. Everything was immaculately white with golden accents, from the ornate hearth, inlaid with gold, to the gauzy curtains that covered the tall windows. A soft light seemed to be filtering in through the windows, despite the fact that it was midnight and that they were almost certainly in the dungeons. Severus couldn't keep an expression of surprise from his face. _This_ was Dungeon Thirteen?

Across the room, Bella was sitting primly in a high-backed white armchair, wrapped in a baby blue silk robe and sipping a cup of tea. She smiled cheerily upon making eye contact with Severus and waved a pinky finger at him.

"Good show," said an appreciative voice, and Severus turned to see Lucius Malfoy standing beside him. "I must say, I'm impressed. Whose idea was it to use the Wandering Stairs?"

"Mine," said Avery immediately.

Bella barked a laugh. "He lies, Lucius!"

Lucius raised his eyebrows. Avery grimaced and jerked his head towards Severus. "Fine, it was his idea, but I'm the one who knew where it was!"

"An impressive feat, I'm sure," said Lucius smoothly, moving to sit beside Bella. "Why don't you all join us? Tea, Severus?"

Severus nodded and Bella handed him a tiny china cup filled with emerald green tea as he settled into the armchair beside her. The other recruits took seats in similar, high-backed armchairs as Severus sipped at his tea. He, Mulciber and Avery were the only fifth years, but he recognized a couple of sixth years — Wilfred Wilkes and Evan Rosier — and one tall, barrel-chested seventh year who played Beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Thank you for responding to our invitation," said Lucius, taking the seat on Bella's other side as he cast his eyes imperiously about the room. "We were expecting a few more guests, but seeing as they have failed to arrive by midnight, we will consider their invitation declined."

He raised a hand and a heavy bolt fell across the golden door at the end of the room, locking it from the inside. A few people looked surprised at this casual display of wandless magic, and Avery nearly spit out his tea, but Severus remained impassive. Lucius probably had his wand up his sleeve, or else Bella was the one who had locked the door while the others' eyes were on Lucius.

"I would like to congratulate you all on successfully completing your first task as an Intent — finding your way to Dungeon Thirteen. It is said that only those who are destined for greatness are able to find its entrance. I am relieved so many of you have made it; it portends good things for this group of Intents."

Severus wanted to roll his eyes out of his head. Proclaiming they were special because they had found a hidden room at Hogwarts? Hogwarts was an enormous castle that had been steeped in magic for centuries. It had _hundreds_ of hidden rooms. You had to actively bumble around with your eyes closed to avoid running into one.

"As Intents, you are expected to form the bonds of brotherhood," continued Lucius. "This requires spending time together. You will rise together in the mornings to exercise during the week. You will eat meals together. You will be responsible for cleaning the Slytherin common room, except on weekends. Once a week, you will meet as a group and Bella will guide you through a bonding activity."

Severus wondered how much trouble he would get in if he hurled his teacup at Lucius' impeccable robes. He had thought this meeting would be about proving his ability in the Dark Arts, not — he gritted his teeth involuntarily — _bonding activities._ He had a sudden, horrible vision of being made to paint Mulciber's nails. It was like something out of his worst nightmares.

Bella nudged him as she stood up, bringing him out of his reverie. "Intents will also be responsible for making a pledge to show their commitment to the brotherhood —or sisterhood, as the case may be," she added, tossing her hair. "Pledges are limited only by your imagination, so _don't_ be boring. In the past, we've had brothers bring us Dark family heirlooms, or curses from foreign magical traditions, or offerings in the form of Galleons." She sighed dramatically, making it abundantly clear just how pedestrian she considered such monetary donations.

"The process starts on Monday, so be prepared," Lucius said, getting to his feet. "I regret that I must be off, but I look forward to hearing reports of your progress. Bella, dear…" The two exchanged air kisses before Lucius swept out the golden door, which unlatched itself as he approached and clanged shut behind him.

The room filled with hushed conversation as soon as Lucius had left. Severus leaned back in his chair, massaging his forehead with his fingertips. The Dark Lord required _bonding activities._ He would have preferred torture.

Mulciber leaned over and plucked the teacup out of Severus' hands, taking a long drink from it. "So it begins, eh, Sev?"

He _definitely_ would have preferred torture.

* * *

During the next few days, the Intents began to establish a routine — rising together before the rest of the castle was awake, running drills outside on the grounds, eating together, and spending evenings studying together in Dungeon Thirteen, whose golden door began to appear randomly throughout the dungeons whenever Severus was alone. Apparently, once found, the room made itself difficult to lose again.

Severus was surprised to discover that he didn't actually mind spending so much time with the other Intents. Granted, Avery would always be a bit of an annoying prat, and Mulciber continued to remind him of an overgrown, semi-intelligent bulldog, but the other Intents were alright.

The worst part was that he no longer had time to spend with Lily. He switched tables to work with Mulciber during Potions on Monday, something Lily was visibly hurt by, but Severus was able to placate her after class by telling her that Mulciber had bullied him into switching. This wasn't true, strictly speaking, but it was definitely something Mulciber was capable of, and Lily seemed to swallow the lie without too much questioning. Severus sensed that she didn't entirely believe him, but she was willing to pretend for their friendship's sake.

On Tuesday evening, he began to make the long trek from the dungeons to the Astronomy tower for class. As he climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, his stomach gave a sudden lurch. His foot was stuck to the step below him. He tried to pull his leg away, but to no avail, and he swore under his breath. He didn't remember there being a trick step on this particular staircase —

"Alright, Snivellus?"

James Potter appeared at the top of the steps, flanked by Peter and Sirius, who appeared to be stowing his wand in his robes.

Not a trick step, then. A Sticking Charm.

"Three on one's not your usual style, Potter," said Severus, his heartbeat quickening. _Keep talking; stall for time._ "I thought you never gang up on someone unless you have at least four on your side. Where's Lupin run off to? Did his guilty prefect's conscience finally grow a backbone to match?"

"He's ill, actually," said James. "Touch of the mumblemumps. He's quite disappointed to have to miss out on this."

"Pity. Here's hoping he drops dead," snapped Severus.

"Shut it, Snape," Sirius growled. "Remus is twice the wizard you are."

Severus snorted. "Well, he's a genius compared to _you_. Not the brightest star in the Black family constellation, are you? Though I shouldn't be too surprised, considering all the inbreeding has turned your family tree into a single branch —"

Sirius pulled out his wand so quickly that Severus didn't have a chance to defend himself, and a Stinging Hex struck his cheek with such force that he tasted blood. At the same time, he felt a tugging sensation as his wand left his back pocket; Peter had disarmed him.

"Cowards," said Severus, relieved that his voice didn't shake. "Hex me again, you inbred blood traitor —"

"Oh, we will," said James, advancing down the steps towards Severus. "By the way… does Lily know her lapdog uses such nasty, prejudiced language?"

Severus spat at him, blood landing on James' shoes. "Take her name out of your mouth."

"It's funny," continued James, as if he hadn't heard, "because she's the reason we decided to have a chat with you. You see, she used a very clever little charm on me the other day, and we couldn't help but wonder if it was one of your creations."

"Not to mention that hex you hit me with last Hogsmeade weekend," Sirius said. "You're quite the inventor, aren't you?"

"Our concern," said James, coming to a halt a few steps above Severus, "is that you're in league with the other Death Eater wannabes in your House. I think you're creating new spells for What's-His-Name and his followers to use."

"You're wrong," said Severus, trying his best to sound disdainful. "I'm not one of them."

"Don't lie," said James. "I saw you lot yesterday, doing laps around the Quidditch pitch. And Lily herself told me that you've been teaching curses to Mulciber. Does a de-boning spell sound familiar?"

Severus felt the blood drain from his face. "No — she wouldn't… He made me. I didn't —"

"Right, so that's a yes," said Sirius, rolling up his sleeves. "Anyone who would intentionally teach Mulciber a spell like that is a Death Eater in my book. On three, then, James?"

James nodded, drawing his wand and pointing it at Severus' chest. Severus braced himself for whatever was sure to come. He would not let these cretins have the satisfaction of seeing him afraid.

"One… two —"

"What the hell do you lot think you're doing?"

Severus' heart leapt. Mulciber and Avery were standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Dueling in the halls, Potter, Black?" asked Avery as he and Mulciber climbed the stairs to join Severus. "Pettigrew, why are you holding _two_ wands?"

"Not duelling, Edmund," grunted Mulciber, narrowing his eyes. "These brave Gryffindors are attacking a defenceless student."

"Bullying, then," said Avery, shaking his head. "My, my, I can't imagine Professor McGonagall will be very happy to hear about this… d'you think she'll settle for just taking points, or will you lot end up in a round of detentions as well?"

"Piss off, Avery," said Sirius, but he and James backed away. Peter, looking somewhat sheepish, handed Severus his wand back, and the three Gryffindor boys took off.

"Er," said Severus, glancing at Mulciber and Avery, "thanks. You didn't have to do that, though…"

"Rubbish," said Avery. "You're one of us now, remember? We're in this together."

"Did they hurt you?" asked Mulciber.

Severus shrugged, touching his cheek. "Stinging Hex, nothing serious. I think they used a Permanent Sticking Charm to fix me to the stairs, though…"

"Oh, that's a breeze to get rid of," said Avery, drawing his wand. "They're not as durable as their name makes them seem." He pointed his wand at Severus' foot. " _Decollisa_."

Severus raised his eyebrows as he bent to rub his ankle. "I'll have to remember that one."

Avery smiled. "Don't spread it around. That particular counter-charm's a bit of a family secret. Consider it payment for your de-boning spell, yeah?"

"We better get a move on," announced Mulciber, checking his watch, which was inlaid with tiny, pearlescent teeth. "Sunset's in five, and Professor Vega won't appreciate if we miss Jupiter's rising."

They made it to the top of the tower just as Professor Vega was shutting the door. Severus headed towards the corner where he usually worked, alone, but Mulciber stopped him.

"Come work with us, Sev. We don't bite." He flashed his yellow teeth in a smile.

Severus hesitated, but only for a moment. Nodding, he followed Mulciber to the other side of the tower, where Avery was pulling out his star chart.

As Severus began to set up his telescope, he glanced past the parapet, towards the grounds. The view was different from this side of the Astronomy tower; he could see the Forbidden Forest and the Whomping Willow, whose branches hung motionless, not even swaying in the breeze.

Severus paused. The Whomping Willow never stopped moving. That was the whole _point_. He swung his telescope downwards, twisting the knobs to get a better look at the tree.

There were two figures, one of them supporting the other, moving slowly towards the trunk of the Whomping Willow. The taller one was wearing white robes — Madam Pomfrey? And the other, smaller one —

Severus' breath caught in his throat.

The two lowered themselves into what appeared to be a hole at the base of the tree, and no sooner had they done so then the branches began to move again, swaying with increasing violence.

Severus slowly raised his head from the telescope. There was no doubt in his mind as to who the smaller figure had been.

Remus Lupin was sick, indeed.


	5. Moony's Magical Malady

That night, Severus laid awake in bed longer than he should have, his head spinning as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had seen during Astronomy class. He was certain it had been Remus who had slipped into the hole under the Whomping Willow, but hadn't James told him Remus was ill? James was a liar, obviously, but there could have been a grain of truth to what he had said. Severus had seen Madam Pomfrey at the base of the Willow as well, after all.

In the end, Severus decided he would ask Lily her opinion. She was in Gryffindor; maybe she had some insight into Remus' behaviour that had escaped him. Satisfied, he closed his eyes and spent the night's few remaining hours in comfortable, dreamless sleep.

Meeting up with Lily the following day turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated. It took some doing to ditch Mulciber, who wanted Severus to complete his Potions homework for him, and even after all that effort, he wasn't able to find Lily in any of their usual meeting spots. Evidently, she was no longer waiting for him to spend time with her, a fact which made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Their afternoon free period was nearly over by the time he finally found her on the sixth floor, her robes rustling against her ankles as she strode down the corridor towards Professor Slughorn's office. Severus caught her by the arm and she turned, her green eyes widening in surprise.

"Sev?"

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said.

Lily's eyes widened even further. "Really?"

"Really."

"And here I thought you'd forgotten about me again," she said. Her tone was light, but Severus could hear the hurt lingering beneath her words.

"Impossible," he said, pressing all the sincerity he could into his voice. "I understand if you're angry, though. I would be, too, if I was you."

Lily tilted her head, thoughtful. "I wouldn't say I'm _angry_ , really. It's more… God, Sev, I'm worried about you. There're some nasty rumours about that group of Slytherins you've been hanging round with, did you know that? I mean, they say Mulciber -"

"That's not my choice," said Severus quickly. "Not Mulciber, at least. I told you, he's been making me do his homework for him, it's not like… we're not _friends_. I promise." He was staring intently at her, trying to convince her of his sincerity, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I just don't want you ending up like them."

"Never," he said. "Though if I grow about three feet and begin to speak in grunts, you'll know Mulciber's rubbing off on me."

Lily smiled a little, the worried line between her brows relaxing. "You think the rumours are true that he's part troll?"

"It's hardly a rumour at this point," said Severus. "Editing the excrement he calls an essay has taught me that there really is no limit to human suffering."

Lily laughed, the sound clear and genuine. "Stop it, you're too much!"

"It's the truth. A part of me dies every time I come across another one of his hideously misspelt words. I think my lifespan's been shortened by half already."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you you're a drama queen?"

Severus shrugged. "I seem to remember a certain red-haired girl who'd say something similar whenever I'd make a particularly astute observation…"

"She sounds wise," said Lily. "You should listen to her." She winked at him and began to stride down the corridor, touching his arm to indicate that he should follow.

"Where are we going?" he asked, hurrying to keep up with her.

"Sluggy's office," said Lily. "I've got a question about my independent study."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Does this mean I get to find out what you're brewing?"

"Maybe. If your Potions knowledge is good enough to read between the lines."

"I taught you everything you know about Potions."

She jostled him with her shoulder, pushing him into the wall. "You taught me everything I know about everything."

"Exactly. I'm sure I can figure out whatever it is you're brewing."

"I wouldn't be so confident," she said. "I believe, in this case, the student has surpassed the master."

"You wish. You stand on the shoulders of giants."

"You're calling yourself a giant now?" she asked. "They're only one degree removed from trolls, you know. You sure Mulciber hasn't rubbed off on you?"

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but her emerald eyes were sparkling with humour as she grinned at him.

They reached Professor Slughorn's office, and the door swung open without their having to knock; evidently, Slughorn had been expecting them. He was reclined comfortably in the chair behind his desk, a box of half-eaten bonbons wrapped in gold foil balanced on his considerable stomach.

"Lily Evans!" Professor Slughorn cried, popping a chocolate into his mouth. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Ah, and I see you've brought, er, Silverus along with you."

Severus cringed, resisting the impulse to hurl Slughorn's box of bonbons at the wall.

"I had a question about my independent study, Professor," said Lily brightly. Professor Slughorn's eyes immediately flickered to Severus, a gesture that was not missed by Lily. "He doesn't know anything about it, sir," she said. "I've kept it secret like you told me to."

"Very prudent of you, my dear girl," Professor Slughorn said, sitting up straighter, which caused the box of chocolates to tumble off his waistcoat and onto the desk. "Very Slytherin, I should say. Bonbon?"

"Ooh, yes, please," said Lily, taking the box from him and picking through the remaining chocolates. "Want one, Sev?"

Severus shook his head, feeling Professor Slughorn's eyes on him again. Despite Severus' obvious skill in Potions, Slughorn had never had much time for him, preferring students who were more boisterous or better-connected. Severus, having all the charisma of a dead toad, was well aware that he would never be a part of the Slug Club. Still, he couldn't deny that the professor's indifference stung a little.

Professor Slughorn's voice jolted Severus out of his thoughts. "I suppose no harm will come if your friend overhears a snippet of our conversation. Can you keep a secret, Sliverus?"

" _Severus_ won't tell a soul," Lily corrected gently, the corners of her mouth twitching. "He's completely trustworthy."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Professor Slughorn, settling back into his chair. "Ask away, then, my dear girl — I would be glad to be of assistance."

"Well, sir," said Lily, "the potion keeps going off whenever I add the rue, and nothing seems to help. I really wanted to figure it out on my own, but I've tried every trick I know and I'm at a bit of a loss as to what I'm doing wrong."

Professor Slughorn scratched his chin. "What time of day do you add the rue?"

"High noon, sir."

"And in what phase of the lunar cycle?"

"Always within three days of the new moon."

Slughorn nodded approvingly. "Do you handle the rue with your bare hands?"

"Never, sir. I always use cloth or gloves."

Professor Slughorn raised his eyebrows. "Dragonhide gloves?"

Lily began to blush, and Severus suddenly realized what the problem was. "Actually, sir," she said, "I've been using gardening gloves that my mum lent me. They're made from cowhide, which is standard for Muggles…"

Professor Slughorn began to chuckle, his belly shaking. "Muggle gloves! From cowhide! Lily Evans, whatever are we going to do with you? Servelus, do you happen to know where Lily went wrong?"

Severus gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to curse Slughorn for both the mispronunciation of his name and the way he laughed at Lily's ignorance. "Rue is a non-magical ingredient, sir," he said flatly. "As such, it should always be handled with dragonhide gloves. The oils from the gloves infuse the rue with trace magical elements, allowing it to blend with the other ingredients in the potion."

Lily looked shocked. "But that's — that's not in any of our Potions texts! Why didn't I ever hear — why didn't anyone ever tell me about that?"

"But it's common knowledge, my dear!" said Professor Slughorn. "Why else do you suppose we require dragonhide gloves starting in fourth year?"

"I don't know," said Lily, putting her hands on her hips. "Because that's just what wizards use?"

Professor Slughorn threw his head back, his entire body jiggling with laughter. "Ah, Lily, you never cease to amaze me! Even after years at Hogwarts, there are still gaps in your knowledge, eh? Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, what with your heritage… it makes me wonder what you could achieve if you hadn't been raised by Muggles…"

Lily flushed crimson, the colour spreading down her neck. Severus wished he could sink into the plush carpet of Slughorn's office and disappear.

"Come on, Lily," muttered Severus, taking her arm as she opened her mouth to respond to Professor Slughorn. "You got your answer, let's just go…"

Lily managed to wait until they were out of Slughorn's office before exploding with anger. "What I could achieve if I hadn't been raised by MUGGLES? That's not — he has no right —"

"Well, he's not a complete waste of space," said Severus. "At least now you know —"

"— what everybody else knows except me, apparently!" she said, rounding on him. "You knew, too, don't deny it!"

Severus grimaced. "It's one of those things —"

"Why didn't you say something one of the hundreds of times we've had Potions together? When you saw me using those gloves?"

Somehow, Severus didn't think it would diffuse the situation to tell Lily that he thought it was cute she used her mum's old Muggle gloves to brew potions. "It never really mattered in class, but if you're making a N.E.W.T.-level potion —"

"Which I bet you still haven't figured out —"

"I have a guess." Slughorn's questioning had let enough slip that he actually had a decent idea as to what she was making.

Lily crossed her arms. "Let's hear it, then."

"Well, it's obviously a very sensitive potion if you have to take into account the phases of the moon," Severus said. "And judging from the way Slughorn wanted you to keep it a secret, it's probably something dangerous or valuable. Which leaves us with a few options." He began to tick them off on his fingers. "Amortentia. Polyjuice. Felix Felicis. Wyrmwine and the Drink of Despair are possibilities, but somehow I don't see you agreeing to brew Dark potions. None of these uses rue except Felix and Wyrmwine, and of the two, Felix seems to be more your style. It _is_ Felix Felicis, isn't it?"

A glance at Lily's face told him that he had been right. "I can't believe you guessed," she said, her shoulders drooping. "Slughorn did want me to keep it a secret, but I also… I also wanted it to be a surprise. I thought maybe after our O.W.L.s, we could, you know, try a little…"

Severus couldn't keep his heart from racing at the thought of taking Felix Felicis with Lily. A lucky day, a perfect day… maybe that would be exactly the push they needed… maybe there was a chance she felt the same…

"Erm, I also had a question for you," he said, shaking his head a little to clear the images that were swirling around his mind. "You know Lupin? Remus Lupin?"

"Of course, he's in my year," said Lily, biting her lip and looking at him with sudden apprehension. "Is this about Potter and Black? What they did yesterday?"

Severus blinked. "You know what they did yesterday?"

Lily smiled sadly. "Sev. You've got a welt the size of a Galleon on your cheek."

Severus touched his face, frowning. He didn't make a habit of looking in the mirror. "Ah. Well, this is something separate. Sort of." He told her what James had said about Remus being sick, and what he had seen during Astronomy class.

By the time he had finished talking, Lily's brow was furrowed. "Well, whatever it is, I wouldn't worry about it," she said, shrugging.

Severus stared at her. "But don't you get it? They _froze_ the Whomping Willow. Why would Lupin need to do that?" A bolt of inspiration struck him. "You do prefect rounds with him, don't you? Does he ever not show up?"

Lily shook her head, but she wouldn't meet his eye. "I mean, he misses once in a while, but —"

"Did you patrol last night? Did he miss then?"

"I… look, his mother's ill, alright?"

"So it's his mother, now? Does she live under the Whomping Willow?"

"I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to be like this," Lily said. "You don't need to be getting mixed up with Potter and his friends."

"Who said anything about Potter? Is he in on it, too?"

Lily stomped her foot in frustration. "Sev, you are being impossible!" She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and picked up her pace, not waiting for him to catch up.

Severus watched her dark red hair swinging behind her as she rounded a corner and disappeared from his sight. He was certain of one thing: whatever was wrong with Remus Lupin, Lily knew about it, and she didn't want him to find out.

* * *

"Ready, you lot?" asked James, standing on his bed and shaking his Invisibility Cloak impatiently.

"Born ready," replied Sirius, snatching the Cloak out of James' hands and throwing it around himself. "I've been practising, and I make a _very_ good ghoul. You ought to hear me scream."

"That was you, then, in the boys' loo?" asked Remus, ducking under the Cloak. "Because the noises you were making reminded me of a lot of things, but a ghoul wasn't one of them."

"You put Moaning Myrtle to shame," agreed Peter, joining Remus and Sirius.

James drew the Cloak around the four of them, checking to make sure their feet weren't visible. "Alright, Operation: Haunted House is a go."

Hidden by the Cloak, they crept downstairs, through the Gryffindor dormitory — James spotted Lily in the corner with a group of students, playing some sort of Muggle board game that involved a lot of many-sided dice — and out the portrait hole. They descended the castle's many floors in silence, narrowly avoiding a pair of Hufflepuff prefects in the Entrance Hall before slipping through the great oak doors and out onto the grounds of Hogwarts.

Sirius let out a loud moan as soon as they were outside, the bitter night air whipping the cloak around their legs.

"Shut it, Banshee Black," said Peter, laughing a little. "Do you want us to get caught?"

"I'm just giving Hogwarts a taste of how good a ghoul I am," said Sirius. "I'm waiting till we reach the Shack to really let loose."

"Merlin help the unsuspecting inhabitants of Hogsmeade," said Remus. "It's bad enough they have to listen to the howls of an _actual_ monster every month…"

Nobody laughed.

"You lot are so P.C.," said Remus. "That was a _joke_."

"You should try being funny next time," offered Peter. "It might help."

"The full was that bad, eh, Moony?" said James, guiding them towards the Whomping Willow.

Remus tried to shrug, a difficult feat considering he was sandwiched between Sirius and Peter. "Nothing too out of the ordinary. Got a scratch on my embarrassing bits. It wouldn't stop bleeding so I had to show Madam Pomfrey. Loads of fun, that was."

"I'll have to remember that one," said James. "Poppy is a ten."

Sirius snorted. "Poppy is a seven-point-five on a good day. _I'm_ a ten."

"Yeah," said James, "But I'm not trying to get you to look at my embarrassing bits, am I?"

"So you agree I'm a ten."

"I agree you're a self-centred git —"

"Quiet!" Peter whispered suddenly, and the group froze. Peter gave orders rarely enough that when he did, it was cause to pay attention. "I heard something. Footsteps."

The four boys turned as one to look behind them. "Nobody there," said Sirius. "Probably Hagrid —"

"Well, there's an easy way to tell for sure," said Remus, drawing his wand. " _Homenum revelio_."

Immediately, a bolt of light shot out of his wand, streaking towards the Forbidden Forest. At the edge of the trees, the light unfolded like a blanket overtop of a small, skinny figure before rushing back into Remus' wand.

Sirius was out from under the Cloak before James could stop him, striding towards the figure with his wand out. James followed him, whipping off the Invisibility Cloak and flinging it to the ground.

" _Stupefy_!" cried Sirius, and a burst of red light struck the trees. "Where'd he go, that slimy sneak —"

"Sirius, don't," said Remus, jogging to keep up. "It's past curfew, don't draw attention —"

"He's gotta be Disillusioned or something," said Peter, looking around wildly. "Do that spell again, Remus…"

But James was way ahead of him. " _Homenum revelio_ ," he said, firing off one spell after another as quickly as he could. " _Homenum revelio, Homenum revelio, Homenum revelio…"_

"You really need to learn how to cast non-verbally, mate," said Sirius, breaking into a sprint as James' spells illuminated a dark shape running back up to the castle. Whoever it was had a large lead; the oak doors opened slightly and slammed shut again just as Sirius reached the bottom of the stone steps.

Panting, Sirius sat down on the steps, waiting for the others to join him. James reached him first and Sirius stood, letting James throw the Invisibility Cloak around their shoulders. Peter made it to the steps next and promptly disappeared under the Cloak, while Remus waited patiently by the Whomping Willow for the group to join him once more.

"I think that was Snape," said Remus seriously once James had draped the Cloak around him.

"You don't say," muttered Sirius, waving his wand at a stick laying on the ground. The stick hovered in the air for a moment before Sirius, with a flick of his wand, sent it through the branches of the Whomping Willow to touch a knot at the base of the tree. Immediately, the Willow's thrashing branches stilled, and the four boys crept towards the hole that lay hidden in the tree's roots.

"Was he _following_ us?" asked Peter, sliding down into the tunnel.

"That's what it looked like," said Sirius as he followed Peter down the hole. Turning, he extended an arm towards Remus, who pretended not to notice as he lowered himself gingerly into the tunnel.

"D'you think he suspects…?" asked Peter, leaving the end of the question dangling in the air.

James folded the Invisibility Cloak over his arm and jumped into the tunnel, nearly knocking Sirius over as he did so. "Snivellus doesn't know anything. There's no way."

"But we just had a full moon," said Remus, his forehead creasing with worry. "He could have noticed I was missing — maybe Madam Pomfrey said something —"

"Poppy's not an idiot, she wouldn't do something like that," said James.

Sirius grunted his agreement as they began to make their way to the Shrieking Shack. The tunnel was so small that they had to bend nearly double as they walked to avoid scraping their backs.

"We should be more careful from now on," said Remus as they reached the end of the tunnel. "Especially if Snivellus has decided to play detective."

"Agreed," said James, hoisting himself out of the hole and into the Shrieking Shack. The others followed suit, dusting off their knees and surveying the decrepit room. "And Moony, if he gives you any trouble — if he even looks at you wrong — you tell us, and we'll take care of it."

"Banshee Black will lure him to an untimely demise," said Sirius, cupping his hands to his mouth and letting out a loud, suggestive moan that rose into a bloodcurdling scream.

"That's very kind of Banshee Black," replied Remus, tapping his wand against a chair. Immediately, thick black smoke began to pour out of his wand, filling the room and leaking through the boarded-up window into the air outside.

"I live to please," said Sirius. He touched his wand to his throat to amplify his voice and let out another long, vulgar moan. Peter whooped with laughter, banging his arms against the walls, and Sirius stopped moaning long enough to pull a bottle from his robes. He took several gulps before passing it to Remus.

"Excellent start," said James, his eyes gleaming as he pulled out his own wand. "Now, show me why they call this the most haunted house in Britain."

That night, the villagers of Hogsmeade were kept awake by the screams and wails coming from the Shrieking Shack, often accompanied by bangs and flashes of light. At one point, the house shook violently from top to bottom, knocking tiles off the roof and into the decrepit garden. By morning, though, the Shack stood still and silent; and if anyone noticed at breakfast that the fifth-year Gryffindor boys looked a little worse for the wear, nobody said anything.

* * *

Lily was entirely engrossed in Professor Walog's Arithmancy lecture when she felt something nudge at her leg. She jumped a little in surprise, her quill streaking ink across her parchment. Glancing down, she saw a tiny, origami dog pressing its paws against her ankle. It wagged its tail excitedly as she bent to pick it up, pretending that she had dropped her quill. She placed the origami dog carefully in her lap and unfolded it, trying not to let Professor Walog see.

She recognized Severus' cramped, spiky handwriting at once. _Meet me in Dungeon Six after lunch_ , the parchment read. _Overheard something important. Need your opinion_.

She scribbled a quick response, keeping one eye on Professor Walog _. Please tell me this isn't about Potter and his mates._ She tapped the note with her wand, watching as it folded itself into a paper cat, which stretched lazily before jumping off her lap and strolling towards the back of the room.

A reply came in the form of a tiny eagle which beat its wings against her shins. _Just come, will you? I'll be waiting._

After class, she ate lunch with Mary and Marlene, who was bemoaning the E she had gotten on her latest essay for Muggle Studies ("How was I supposed to know dirigibles aren't a common means of Muggle air transportation? Lily, you're _sure_ you've never ridden in one?"). Across the hall, Severus was trying to catch Lily's eye from the Slytherin table, but she was determined not to look at him.

Against her better judgement, she excused herself from lunch early, leaving Mary and Marlene to debate whether a dirigible was the same thing as a hot air balloon. Severus had already left the Great Hall, and, true to his word, he was waiting for her in Dungeon Six when she arrived.

"Alright, spill it," said Lily, pulling the door shut behind her. Dungeon Six was covered from floor to ceiling in mirrors of varying shapes and sizes, reflecting light in all directions. As a result, the room was utterly dazzling, which always made her feel slightly off-balance.

"They snuck out last night," Severus said at once, almost bouncing with excitement. Whatever he had overheard, he was clearly dying to talk about it.

"Who's 'they'?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Lupin! With Potter and his other mates. They've got an Invisibility Cloak, by the way. I'd bet you anything that's how they get away with what they do, you might want to tell McGonagall —"

She sighed. "Look, Sev —"

"Lily, would you please just listen?" he said. "Judge me later, if you must. But I really need to talk about this with someone."

Lily furrowed her brow. It wasn't like Severus to be so forthcoming. And it _really_ wasn't like him to say 'please'.

"Fine," she said, and Severus' expression changed to one of relief. "So they snuck out, big deal."

"Right," he said, all of his words tumbling out of him at once. "And I heard Lupin talking about Hogsmeade, and the howls of a monster, and something that only happens once a month, and then Potter said something about a 'full' —"

Lily's eyebrows arched further and further up her forehead as he talked. "So?"

"Don't you see?" said Severus. "The _howls_ of a monster? Interesting word choice, right? And 'full', I think that's short for 'full moon', which is something that happens once a month —"

"We should probably head to Potions," interrupted Lily, checking her watch.

"Why don't you want to talk about this with me?" said Severus, catching her wrist. She startled, jerking her arm away.

"I just don't think this is good for you, this new obsession with Potter and his mates —"

" _Lupin is a werewolf_!" he hissed.

Lily blinked.

"Right," she said slowly, drawing out the word to give herself time to think. "First off, I think that's really unlikely."

"But it makes sense!" protested Severus. "What other monster do you know that's associated with the full moon? That _howls_?"

"Are you sure it wasn't just some weird inside joke between Potter and his mates?"

"It wasn't a joke," said Severus. "I'm certain of it. I checked my Astronomy charts and it was a full moon the night I saw him at the Whomping Willow."

"You mean you saw someone you thought _might_ be him —"

Severus was frowning at her now. "Why won't you acknowledge what I'm saying? Have you _known_?"

"Known what?" she snapped. "That he gets ill frequently? Sure. But I highly doubt it's because he's secretly a _werewolf_ , Sev. Aren't they supposed to be really dangerous? How would Dumbledore allow him near Hogwarts? Near children?"

"I don't know," said Severus, tucking a lank strand of hair behind his ears. "But you have to admit what I heard was suspicious."

"Sure, but Potter and his mates say mad stuff all the time," she said. "You'd have to be mad yourself to take any of it seriously."

"I guess," said Severus, unconvinced.

"Besides," said Lily, feeling suddenly inspired, "This is _Remus Lupin_ we're talking about. He's a prefect, for God's sake. I always thought werewolves were a little more, I dunno, savage?"

Severus frowned at that. "You might have a point," he said. "You'll let me know if you hear anything else suspicious? Since he's in your House…"

"I'll do no such thing," she said, opening the door to the dungeon to indicate that their conversation was over. "I'm not about to go snooping in the business of other people, and I suggest you do the same. I mean, he's friends with Potter and Black, Sev. Do you really want to give them a reason to target you?"

Severus grunted in response, but he followed her out of Dungeon Six and towards the Potions classroom. She breathed a sigh of relief when he took a seat beside Mulciber, who was evidently still forcing Severus to do his work for him. When Remus walked into the classroom a few minutes later, flanked by his mates, Lily had to will herself not to stare, not to wonder if perhaps Severus had figured out something he shouldn't have.

* * *

On Saturday evening, Severus met with the other Intents in Dungeon Thirteen for their first — he cringed inwardly — _bonding activity_. The past week had gone more smoothly than he had anticipated, but even so, he wasn't looking forward to getting to know Avery and Mulciber on a deeper level.

As soon as he stepped into Dungeon Thirteen, however, he realized he needn't have worried. The posh, circular drawing room had been transformed. The white armchairs and the gold embroidered rugs had been relegated to the edges of the room, and Bella stood in the middle, twirling her wand between her fingers.

"Sit," she ordered, pointing at the floor, and Severus took his place next to Evan Rosier and Wilfred Wilkes, the two sixth year Intents. He noticed Rabastan Lestrange, the seventh year Slytherin beater, sitting comfortably close to Bella, as if he wasn't intimidated by her at all.

"I hope you all have had a pleasant first week as Intents," Bella began, her focus on the wand between her fingers. "Spending time together and performing acts of service for Slytherin House builds bonds and improves character. Tonight, we will be doing something entirely different. Who among you has performed an Unforgivable Curse?"

Severus glanced at the others. Nobody moved.

Bella shook her head, but she didn't seem surprised. "And how, exactly, do you expect to serve the Dark Lord if you have not mastered the most important tools in a Death Eater's arsenal?"

Severus raised his eyebrows a little at that. He was no duelling expert, but even he knew it wasn't good to rely too much on a particular spell — or set of spells — when fighting. Any enemy with a modicum of intelligence would learn to see it coming and prepare accordingly. Still, he reasoned, the three Unforgivables were a good a way as any to fill Mulciber's limited brain space, so he couldn't fault Bella for teaching them those curses first.

Wilkes raised a hand. "Who will we be cursing, Bella? Because I can think a few people I'd like to put in their place —"

Bella barked a laugh, startling Severus. "Oh, no," she tutted, giggling a little. "No, Wilfred, you misunderstand. I'm not giving you free reign to terrorize the castle. No, you will learn to perform these curses by practising on one another."

Severus felt his heartbeat quicken. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Mulciber was so excited he was practically wiggling. Perform the Unforgivables? On each other?

"But Bella," said Lestrange, "we've spent all week together. I can't — I mean, how could we curse — we _know_ each other now!"

Bella's grin grew wider, and her square, white teeth sparkled in the light of the chandelier above them. "Rabastan, my darling," she said, "that is the entire _point_."

She then began to pair them off, putting Severus with Mulciber, much to his displeasure. He was certain Mulciber would have no problem cursing him, however much time they'd spent together over the past few days.

"Imperius first," ordered Bella, surveying the room haughtily. "It's the easiest one to master. As with all the Unforgivables, simply point your wand, say the words, and _mean_ it."

Mulciber went first, his wand levelled at Severus's chest. Severus took a deep breath, hoping Mulciber wouldn't force him to do anything _too_ embarrassing —

" _Imperio_ ," said Mulciber. Nothing happened.

Severus blinked, and Bella laughed.

"Augustus Mulciber the Third!" she cried. "You've been making _friends_ with little Severus! Who would have thought? You'll have to try harder than that, Augustus! Severus, show him how it's done."

She spoke as if she had complete confidence in him, which meant Severus needed to pull off his Imperius curse on the first try or risk her displeasure, which came in many forms, and none of them was good. Luckily, he still found the idea of cursing Mulciber downright enjoyable. Mulciber may have been kinder to him this past week, but Severus knew that a Wampus didn't change its spots.

Severus could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage as he drew his wand and pointed it at Mulciber. He imagined Mulciber handing over his wand. " _Imperio_."

He felt a sort of warmth flow down his arm and out his wand, and Mulciber's expression changed to a look of stupor before he stepped forward and offered Severus his wand.

"Thanks," said Severus, pocketing it. _Now give me your robes._

Immediately, Mulciber pulled his robes over his head and handed them to Severus, a dazed look still on his face. Bella shrieked with laughter at the sight of Mulciber standing there in an undershirt and pants, which caused the other Intents to look over at them.

"Very good, Severus!" said Bella, clapping her hands together. "Very, very good! His expression is a little unnatural, of course, but there will be plenty of opportunity to fine-tune that later. I'm proud of you!"

Severus turned towards her, and he felt the connection between himself and Mulciber dissipate. Mulciber frowned as he looked down at himself, standing in his pants.

"My apologies," said Severus, not sounding apologetic at all as he offered Mulciber his robes. "It was the only thing I could think of."

Mulciber shrugged. To Severus' relief, he didn't seem overly embarrassed to have been made to take his robes off. "Honestly, I probably would have done the same," said Mulciber. "My turn, then. _Imperio_."

Severus found himself seized with the urge to do a handstand, but he was able to resist the impulse. Dimly, he heard Bella telling Mulciber that mere revenge was not a strong enough emotion to drive an Unforgivable Curse. She then dropped her voice, whispering something in his ear. Mulciber's eyes narrowed, and a voice floated through Severus' head.

 _Cut your hair off… cut your hair off…_

But he didn't have a knife to cut with. Severus patted the pockets of his robes frantically, looking for something sharp he could use. He heard Bella laugh, as if from a distance, and he suddenly snapped back to reality.

"Nice try, Mulciber! But your own thoughts influenced him too much. You were picturing him using a knife, were you not? The Imperius needs a lighter touch. Severus would have used his wand to curse his hair off, had you refrained from filling his mind with images from your own."

And with that, the training continued until they could all cast at least a rudimentary Imperius curse. Avery made Wilkes kiss Bella on the cheek, and Lestrange forced Rosier to loudly confess an embarrassing fantasy.

Bella had them switch partners for the Cruciatus curse, which proved to be substantially more difficult than the Imperius. None of the Intents were able to harm the others for more than a few seconds at a time, and even then Severus found the pain to be rather underwhelming.

After fifteen minutes of watching them struggle to curse one another, Bella shook her head and raised her hand for them to stop. "I am disappointed," she said. "You must not let the bonds of brotherhood impede you from doing what needs to be done. Sentimentality is weakness."

"I thought you wanted us to care for one another," said Lestrange. Severus wondered if Lestrange was the most willing to challenge Bella because he was the oldest Intent, or because the rumours that Bella was involved with his older brother were true. Probably both.

Bella tilted her head to look at him. When she spoke, her words were icy. "I want to form Intents who are committed to one another and to the cause. Commitment is different than _care_. It is different than love. A brother who allows his emotions to impede his commitment is a useless brother and a waste of my time. Do I make myself clear?"

They nodded.

"Good," said Bella, her eyes narrowing. "Severus. Show the others what it means to be committed."

Severus drew his wand and turned towards Wilkes, who he had been partnered with, but Bella stopped him.

"No, Severus," she said, laying her hand on his arm. "I want you to curse _me_."

The other Intents looked at each other, and Severus took a breath. He didn't like being singled out like this — and if he couldn't torture Wilkes, who he hardly knew, how could he perform the Cruciatus on Bella, who had always been kind to him?

Bella smiled sweetly at him, as if she knew exactly what was going through his mind. Severus shook his head to clear his thoughts. Surely she had picked him because she knew he held her in high regard. She expected him to overcome his emotions. To demonstrate commitment.

Severus raised his wand, not daring to think of what would happen if he failed to meet her expectations. He pictured her writhing on the floor, how good it would feel to do what the others couldn't. How good it would feel to hurt her.

" _Crucio_ ," he said, and a jolt of electricity ran down his arm.

Bella screamed; the curse lifted her off her feet and she twisted helplessly in the air, her back bending at unnatural angles. She hit the floor and her body continued to contort itself as she gagged, inhuman noises coming from her throat.

After ten seconds, Severus lowered his wand. He stared down at Bella, who lay in a heap on the ground. A low noise came from her throat, growing louder as she pulled herself to her feet. His heart thumped in his chest. She was _laughing_.

"You see?" said Bella, throwing her arms out as she spun to face the other Intents. "Severus follows my commands. He trusts I know what is good for him. He will be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams!"

Mulciber was next to cast the Cruciatus curse to Bella's satisfaction, followed by Lestrange. After that, they moved on to the Killing Curse, which they practised first on cockroaches, then on rats, and then on six handsome owls that Bella brought down from the Owlry. Mulciber, in particular, seemed disappointed that they wouldn't practice the Killing Curse on actual humans, but Bella assured him that it was no different than using animals. Severus felt a pang of shame as he killed his owl, a great tawny bird with intelligent yellow eyes. It had to be done, of course, but it was such a waste.

After they Vanished the remains of the animals, Bella dismissed them for the night. Severus hung back, however, under the guise of helping her return the armchairs and tables to their proper places.

"I told you to leave, you know," said Bella lightly, moving one particularly large sofa across the room with a wave of her wand.

"I had a question," said Severus, flicking his wand at the tapestries on the walls, which straightened themselves. "About what I should do for my pledge."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "I was assuming you would create a new spell for us."

"I thought about it," admitted Severus. "But then I discovered something else. What if I told you there was a werewolf at Hogwarts? Could I capture it and deliver it to you and Lucius as a pledge?"

Bella laughed. "You must be joking! There's no way a werewolf could live at Hogwarts. Have you ever met one? The Dark Lord keeps a few as Secondaries, and they are —" she shuddered. "They're awful creatures. They're not _human_. If there was a werewolf at Hogwarts, we'd know."

"I think this one's different," Severus said. "I think it passes for human better than most."

Bella turned to look at him, her lips pursed thoughtfully. "I believe you, Severus," she said at last. "And I think catching a werewolf at Hogwarts would be a spectacular pledge. It would showcase your talent while damaging Dumbledore's reputation. Imagine, if it got out that the old dotard was sheltering a beast among children! You would certainly capture the Dark Lord's favour with such a pledge."

Excitement swelled in Severus' chest. "I can do it," he said. "You know I have the ability."

Bella smiled and put an arm around him, drawing him close. "Out of all the Intents, you have the most potential," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "That's why I used you as an example tonight. You make me proud."

Severus merely nodded, his mouth dry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much physical contact with another human being. To his surprise, he found that he didn't mind her touch.


	6. Trials and Transfigurations

The twenty-seventh of March was as much a holiday as Halloween or Christmas as far as the students of Hogwarts were concerned; it was James Potter's birthday, and he was notorious for throwing the wildest celebrations since the Prewetts were in school.

This year, the rumour was that invitations to James' party had been hidden around the castle, allowing anyone lucky enough to find one to attend. As a result, in the week leading up to the party, multiple classrooms were ransacked, and every time Lily turned a corner she found students peering hopefully into the suits of armour stationed along the corridors. Bertram Aubrey, a Hufflepuff fifth year, even incurred a week's worth of detention for taking apart the Gryffindor hourglass piece by piece in search of an invitation among the rubies.

Lily, for her part, spent the week leading up to James' birthday studiously avoiding any sort of situation that might lead to the discovery of an invitation. When walking to class, she kept her eyes trained on her feet, and she outright refused to open any post without Marlene inspecting it first.

On Friday morning, Lily was groggily rummaging through her trunk when her hand brushed against a thick square of parchment, and she froze. There, at the bottom of her trunk, nestled among her undergarments, was an invitation.

Lily felt her cheeks burn. Nevermind that James had gotten past the protections on the girls' dormitory - he'd gotten past the locks on her trunk! She snatched the parchment up and unfolded it in her lap.

 _You are cordially invited to a night of debauchery and magical mischief-making in celebration of James Potter's sixteenth birthday,_ the parchment read. _Meet in the vegetable patch at ten p.m Saturday. Gifts in multiples of sixteen will be accepted. Bring Your Own Broom._

"Ooh, you found an invitation too, Lily?" asked Mary, sitting up in bed and stretching. "That makes all of us, doesn't it?"

"I didn't _find_ an invitation," said Lily. "That implies I made an effort. Someone put this in my trunk. Next to my _knickers._ "

"Oh, yeah, that was me," said Marlene, yawning. Lily's mouth fell open, but Marlene shrugged at her expression. "James wanted to make sure you knew you were invited."

Lily frowned at the invitation. "I'm not going."

"Rubbish, of course you are," said Marlene. "It'll be the party of the year."

"Yeah, and it's _Potter's_ party, which means he's going to be even more annoying than usual and expect us to fall over at his feet just because he managed to go another year without offing himself —"

"There'll be loads of people there," said Parvana, catching Lily's eye in the mirror she was using to brush out her long, glossy hair. "Those invitations were all over the school. I bet it'll be so crowded he won't even notice you."

Marlene snorted. "Right. Because of all the people James is likely to forget about, Lily tops the list."

"Plus, I'm a prefect," said Lily. "I can't go. I have to set a good example."

"Remus is a prefect, too, and I'll bet every Galleon I own he'll be there," said Marlene.

"Yeah," said Lily, "but he's not exactly a shining example of good behaviour, is he?"

"You know you want to go," said Mary. "It'll be a good time."

" _Potter_ will be there."

"You're coming," said Marlene firmly. "Give him sixteen dungbombs as a gift, if you'd like. But you can't ditch us."

Lily knew it was a losing battle. "Fine. But if he asks me out, I'm leaving."

Saturday evening, after she had finished prefect rounds, Lily returned to her dorm, where Marlene was waiting for her.

"Mary and Parvana already left," Marlene informed her. "How long do you need to get ready?"

"Thirty seconds," said Lily, pulling her robes over her head.

Marlene raised an eyebrow as Lily pulled on her frumpiest jumper and jeans. "Going for hobo chic, are we?"

"I don't want him getting any ideas."

Marlene grinned. "Not sure how much control you have over that. Let's go, then."

Peter Pettigrew was waiting for them at the vegetable patch, sitting on an absurdly large yellow squash. He nodded approvingly at Marlene, who was carrying a broom. "The party's three miles away, due west," he told them. "Fly close to the treetops and you can't miss it."

Lily climbed onto Marlene's broomstick, gripping the sides of her waist. As soon as Marlene kicked off, Lily felt bile rising in the back of her throat. She really didn't think she'd ever get used to flying. They weren't even wearing _helmets_.

After a few minutes of soaring above the forest, Lily could just make out in the distance an enormous old oak towering above the other trees, its branches glowing faintly with light. She felt Marlene pull downward on the handle of the broomstick, and she dug her fingers into Marlene's waist as they began to descend.

A thick, twisting branch extended out from the top of the oak like a crooked finger, wide enough for them to land on. Marlene tugged at the broom, touching down gently on the gnarled branch, and Lily immediately clambered off the broomstick, feeling slightly queasy. As she did so, her head brushed against a couple of leaves, which rustled and began to glow with a cool silver light, illuminating their surroundings.

The wide, curved branch they were standing on sloped downwards, towards the trunk of the tree, which appeared to be swollen, bending around a hollowed-out room inside. The oak's boughs had been elongated and thickened to form twisting walkways, and as Lily watched, a pair of students holding hands meandered along a far branch and disappeared behind a thick, shimmering cluster of leaves.

Marlene let out a low whistle and reached out to touch the glittering leaves above them. "This is impressive, even for James."

Lily peered over the edge of the bough, trying to catch a glimpse of the forest floor below, but it was so far beneath her that she couldn't see the ground. She swallowed nervously before following Marlene across the branch and inside the bulging trunk of the tree.

There were so many people crammed inside the tree that Lily had to wonder just how many invitations James had hidden. A gramophone in the corner was blaring Muggle rock music so loudly that the floor shook, and the walls gleamed with the same shimmering light as the leaves. An enormous silver pine cone hung from the ceiling, rotating slowly, its gleaming scales throwing light in all directions. The overall effect was dazzling.

"This is awesome," said Marlene.

"We are so high up, and only the magic of Potter and his friends prevents us from plummeting to our deaths," replied Lily.

Marlene shrugged. "I trust them."

"I think I need a drink."

"Ask and ye shall receive," said a voice, and Lily turned to see Sirius standing behind her, a bright yellow drink in his hand. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he sported a garish orange-and-yellow striped pantsuit, complete with flared bottoms and platform shoes.

"Nice outfit," said Lily, the corner of her mouth twitching. "I think I've seen similar in one of my mum's magazines."

"Your mum has great taste," said Sirius. He winked and offered her the drink he was holding. "My own invention. I call it Sirius' Sunrise Surprise."

Lily sniffed the drink. To her relief, it smelled like citrus and mint. "This isn't going to poison me, is it?"

Sirius placed a hand over his heart in mock offence. "Lily 'Shrinking Violet' Evans, how dare you accuse me of such a thing? Is it because you don't trust my drink-making abilities, or because House Black has a long history of poisoning Muggle villagers for sport?"

"Er, the first one," she said, taking a sip. It really wasn't half bad. "Thanks for the heads up about your family, though."

But Sirius wasn't listening; someone else had caught his attention and he vanished into the mass of partygoers.

"It's never a good sign when he's drunk enough to talk about the House of Black," said Marlene, standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck above the crowd. "Reckon we should give James our presents?"

"Might as well," agreed Lily, downing the rest of her Sunrise Surprise. No sooner had she finished than her skin began to glow a pleasant yellow colour. "Hang on," she said, examining her arms. "Did Sirius charm…?"

"'Course he did," said Marlene, nodding in approval as the yellow glow shifted to a pale pink. "I like it. Pastels go well with your hair."

Lily rolled her eyes.

They approached a table at the edge of the room, which was stacked with enough presents to nearly touch the ceiling, and Lily shook her head. "What kind of person asks for sixteen presents _each_ on their birthday?"

"Trust me, Evans, I'm worth it," said James, walking up to them. He wore a golden crown inlaid with rubies, and Lily had a sneaking suspicion that if she counted the number of gems they would total sixteen.

"Nice crown," said Marlene, smirking a little. "A Potter family heirloom?"

"Au contraire, ma amie," said James, taking the crown off his head and twirling it around his wrist. "You're looking at what was formerly a bird's nest."

"A bird's nest?!" exclaimed Lily before she could stop herself. "But that's — that's really advanced Transfiguration —"

"You say that like you don't think I'd be capable of such a thing," said James, sounding offended. "It wasn't that difficult. It's not perfect, either, look…"

He held his arm out to her, the crown dangling off his wrist, and she peered at it; a closer inspection revealed that the crown had a slightly twiggy look to it that its sheen couldn't disguise.

"All the same," said Lily begrudgingly. "I am kind of impressed."

You'd have thought she had just asked him to marry her with the way his chest swelled.

"So what did you lot get me?" asked James, putting the crown rakishly back on his head.

"Oh, mine's good," said Marlene, pushing the jar she was holding into his hands. "Sixteen newt's eyes, each steeped in a different herbal extract." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Supposedly some have psychoactive properties. I think a couple are poisonous, though. I got 'em in Knockturn Alley, so…"

James laughed. "Marlene, you are a treasure. Thank you! Lily, dare I ask…?"

Lily grinned mischievously and pulled a roll of parchment out of the pocket of her robes. "Enjoy."

James unrolled the parchment, pushing his glasses up his nose as he did so. "' _Sixteen Rejections for the Next Sixteen Times James Potter Asks Me Out'_ ," he read aloud. "' _Number one: No. Number two: Still no. Number three: Not going to happen_ '. Huh. Interesting. Anyway, d'you have plans next Hogsmeade weekend?"

Lily laughed in spite of herself. "Refer to rejection number one, Potter."

"What's this?" asked Remus Lupin, appearing at James' side and peering at the parchment. "Something to deflate your head a bit, James? Lily, on behalf of all of us who have to put up with him pining after you on a daily basis, I thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

Remus grinned at her, but Lily's stomach twisted uncomfortably. If it was true, that Remus was what Severus said he was… and if it got out…

"I actually was hoping to see you, Remus," she said, thinking quickly. "I wanted to touch base about the patrol schedule for this coming week. Shall we?"

Remus looked as if he'd rather not talk about prefect duties right at that moment, but he obediently followed her out of the trunk of the tree and across one of the many wide boughs, which dipped slightly under their weight. Lily's stomach lurched again and she quickened her pace to reach the end of the bough, where a hammock made of vines stretched between two smaller branches.

"Er, if we could make this quick, Lily," said Remus, taking a seat in the hammock, which shimmered and sagged a little under his weight.

"Right, yeah," said Lily distractedly, joining him in the hammock. She wished she had had a few more Sunrise Surprises before attempting this conversation. Wizarding customs did not come naturally to her, being a Muggle-born, but even she was certain that accusing someone of being a werewolf was not something one could do lightly. "Er, so, did you lot put this treehouse… thing... together?"

Remus nodded. "Easier than it looks, actually. A couple days of skiving off class to Transfigure the tree, some Silencing Charms, a few anti-gravity spells for good measure…"

"I'm glad for the anti-gravity spells, at least," said Lily, relaxing a little as she watched her feet, now glowing orange, dangle in the air. "I've never been a big heights person. Fear of falling to my death and all that."

Remus shrugged. "There're worse ways to go. Anyway… the patrol schedule?"

"Er, yeah," said Lily. "About that. That was kind of a ruse to get you away from the others. I wanted to talk to you about something."

Remus' eyebrows raised slightly. "I'm all ears."

"Great," said Lily, fidgeting. "Look, Remus, I'm not sure what's going on with you and I don't care, because it's not my business, but... "

Remus' pleasant expression froze.

"'What's going on with me'?" he repeated, getting up from the hammock. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Oh yeah?" asked Lily. She could feel her heart beginning to pound. "I think you do."

Remus regarded her warily for a moment. "What is this about, Lily?"

"It's Severus," she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. "He thinks he knows what's going on with you. About your illness, or your mum's illness, or whatever it is. He has a theory…"

"A theory?" interrupted Remus, an expression of polite interest on his face. "I didn't think my life was so interesting as to warrant theories. Is it very interesting, this theory of his?"

"That's not - I'm not -" spluttered Lily. "I don't care about his stupid theory, alright? I just wanted to let you know…"

"But I'd like to hear it," said Remus. "We could exchange theories if you'd like. My theory is that your dear friend Severus is a malnourished Bowtruckle masquerading as a human being. What's his theory about me?"

"You know what? It doesn't matter," said Lily. "I was just trying to do you a favour -"

"And I appreciate that," said Remus. "But my curiosity's piqued now, and I simply must know what sort of interesting ideas dear Severus has about my life -"

"Fine," snapped Lily, heat rising up her neck. "Why do they call you Moony?"

"Because I've got pockmarks," said Remus immediately. "You know, more craters than the moon?"

"You're impossible," she said. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"You can tell Severus he's cracked the case," said Remus, feigning a yawn. "I suffer from pimples, that scourge of adolescent boys."

"Must be terrible."

The corner of Remus' mouth twisted in an ironic smile. "Quite. Why don't we rejoin the party?"

Remus had long since vanished into the treehouse by the time Lily stood up from the hammock. _Boys_ , she thought, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. Her hand brushed against some leaves as she did so, disturbing a small, metallic beetle, which clicked its wings and began to buzz around her head.

Carefully, Lily picked her way back to the tree trunk, putting one foot in front of the other on the wide bough. As she pulled open the heavy wooden door to the treehouse, the beetle whizzed past her ear. Inside, it circled the room a few times before flying upwards, landing on the glittering pine cone. It rubbed its shiny wings together, emitting a sort of white powder which fell onto the heads of the students below.

Lily frowned. That wasn't typical beetle behaviour.

A flash of gold caught her eye, and across the room she saw James Potter, wearing his crown. He was frowning slightly as he watched the powder drift down from the pine cone. He elbowed Sirius, who looked upward, eyes widening in alarm. Both boys made to grab their broomsticks, which had been propped up against the wall behind them.

Lily glanced back up at the beetle, which hissed loudly before vanishing with a small pop.

Then the treehouse exploded.

* * *

James had barely managed to grab his broom when the force of the blast knocked him backwards. He collided with the wall, which buckled under the impact, hurtling him out of the tree and sending him tumbling towards the forest floor below.

" _ARRESTO MOMENTUM_!" bellowed a voice. James' stomach gave a sudden lurch as if he were being yanked upward by a fishhook in his navel, and his descent stopped, leaving him hanging in midair. As he scrambled onto his broomstick, Sirius swooped down to hover beside him.

"Get the others!" yelled Sirius. He slashed his wand through the air, sending more Slowing Spells streaking off into the night.

James nodded and dove towards the base of the tree as fast as his broom would allow. His knees buckled as he slammed into the ground, but he immediately whirled around, casting Slowing Spells at the students who were still plummeting towards the forest floor.

High above him, the canopy of the tree had been blown clear off. Where the treehouse had been there was nothing but a smoking hole, open to the night sky. As he watched, the hole began to close, the trunk elongating and sprouting new branches. Within seconds, the old oak had completely repaired itself, as if it had never held a treehouse at all.

James swore under his breath and began to cast Bubblehead Charms at the students who were nearing the ground, sinking slowly through the air as if it was water. Nobody was getting a concussion if he had anything to say about it.

"James," called Remus as he fell, "what the actual —"

A Bubblehead Charm muffled the rest of his words, but the meaning was clear.

"The Fall of Troy," grunted James as Remus landed in a large pile of wet leaves, the impact popping the Bubblehead Charm. "Someone's idea of a prank."

"Merlin's left tit," swore Remus. "What sort of lunatic would think it was _funny_ to watch us all fall to our deaths?"

"Oh, you wouldn't have _died_ ," sneered a voice behind them. James turned, anger flaring in his chest as Mulciber stepped out from behind the trees, flanked by Severus and Avery. "Permanent disability, maybe, but pure-bloods at least are resistant to the regular ways of dying. Your mudblood friends, on the other hand…"

"Use that word again and I'll turn your blood into terra cotta," snapped Lily, striding towards them with her wand out. To James' great relief, she was unharmed, though there were mud stains on her jeans and jumper, and she seemed to be glowing pink. "I'm a prefect, and I demand you tell me what you lot are doing here."

"So'm I," said Remus, scrambling up from the leaf pile and pointing his wand at the group of Slytherins. "And I'd like to know the same." He glanced at Lily, and something unspoken passed between them that James could not decipher.

"I'm a prefect as well," said Avery, smirking. "And as we've discovered an illegal, off-grounds party, I'm afraid we have no choice but to turn you in. What do you think McGonagall will say when she discovers that you were endangering student lives with experimental Transfiguration, Potter?"

"The only people endangering lives were you lot," snapped James. "Which one of you geniuses thought it was a smart idea to try and blow us all up using the Fall of Troy?"

Lily glanced at him, wrinkling her brow. "The Fall of Troy?"

"Also known as Untransfiguration powder," said James quickly, his eyes on Mulciber, who was openly grinning at Lily's question. "You know, the time the Greeks Transfigured their entire army into a wooden horse? And once they were inside Troy they used this powder to Untransfigure themselves and won the Mycenaean War?"

"Muggles have a different version of that story," said Lily darkly. Her eyes flickered to Severus, who was determinedly examining a spot on the ground.

There was a crash behind them, and James turned to see Sirius skidding through the leaves on his broom, Peter landing rather more gracefully beside him.

"Hang on a minute," said Sirius, his eyes on the group of Slytherins as he dragged his broom to a stop. "Did YOU LOT do this? What the ACTUAL —"

"Old news, mate," said Remus, his wand still level with Mulciber's chest.

"You can put your wand away, Lupin," said Mulciber, sounding bored. "Unless you want to add duelling to the growing list of infractions you've committed tonight…"

"It's five on three, genius," said Sirius, striding forward till he was nearly nose-to-nose with Mulciber. "How much you want to bet we just Stun you lot and leave you here as a midnight snack for the Acromantulas?"

"Actually," said Mulciber, "It's seven on five, our favour. But I forgive you for not knowing how to count."

Lily made a small squeaking noise as four more Slytherin students stepped towards them from the shadows. James recognized a few of them - one was Rabastan Lestrange, a Beater on Slytherin's Quidditch team, and beside him was Bella Black. She waved cheerily at Sirius, whose expression darkened at the sight of her.

"We could still take you," growled Sirius, but James shot him a warning glance and he lowered his wand.

Bella laughed. "What a good lapdog my cousin is! Does he come when he's called, as well?"

"Why don't you try it and we'll find out?" snarled Sirius, clenching his fists.

"Enough, Sirius," said James, his heart sinking. They were well and truly caught. "We'll go with you," he said to Mulciber. "But Sirius, Remus, Peter and I were the ones who threw this party. We Transfigured the tree. Lily and the others had nothing to do with it."

"Taking responsibility, are we, Potter?" said Mulciber, his eyes sparkling with malice.

"Sometimes I even surprise myself," replied James, tucking his wand into the pocket of his jeans. "Back to the castle, then?"

The trek through the Forbidden Forest to Hogwarts took the better part of an hour. A few of the Slytherins stayed behind to corral the rest of the students who had attended the party, but Bella insisted on accompanying them back to the castle. She walked uncomfortably close to Sirius, rubbing shoulders with him and giggling every time he tried to shove her away. As a result, by the time they reached McGonagall's office, Sirius looked ready to commit murder, which James was certain would not help their case.

Professor McGonagall seemed to have been expecting them. Although it was past midnight, she was fully clothed in tartan robes and pointed witches' hat as she sat behind her desk, her hands folded and her back ramrod straight. James wondered if Mulciber had tipped her off, or if she somehow knew it was his birthday and had been expecting trouble.

"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. "Mulciber, Avery, Snape, Miss Black, you may go."

"Lily too," James burst out as he took a seat. Beside him, Sirius groaned.

"Miss Evans stays," said Professor McGonagall. "At least until I determine the extent to which she was involved in tonight's activities."

"But she didn't do anything!" said James. "She just came to the party!"

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Miss Evans, is this true?"

Although the Sunrise Surprise had long since worn off, Lily's face was as scarlet as her hair. James wondered if she'd ever been in trouble with McGonagall before. "Yes, ma'am," she said, her eyes on her feet. "I was there."

"Then I am very disappointed in you," said Professor McGonagall. "You were out after hours, and off school grounds, no less. That shows a serious lack of judgement."

"It does, ma'am," said Lily, her voice quavering. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology," said Professor McGonagall stiffly. "You are both a prefect and a young witch with a bright future. Learn from this experience and do not repeat it."

Lily swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "I won't, Professor."

"I am relieved to hear that," McGonagall said. "I will deduct ten points from Gryffindor, and you shall serve a detention. Does this sound fair?"

Lily's eyes were filled with tears, but James thought she'd gotten off rather easily, all things considered. He'd lost more points than that for far smaller offences. And only one detention! It must be her first.

"You may leave," Professor McGonagall told Lily, her eyes softening. "Get a good night's sleep, and remember that tomorrow is a new day."

Nodding, Lily picked up her bag, sniffing a little. As she pulled open the office door, however, she paused and glanced back just enough to make eye contact with James. Her tears were gone, and her green eyes sparkled with obvious delight as she smirked at him.

James' mouth fell open. Lily winked, her smile growing wider. Then she flounced out of the office.

Professor McGonagall waited until the door had swung shut before focusing her attention on James and his friends, her expression much more severe than when she had been addressing Lily.

"Minnie —" started Sirius, and James kicked him.

"Thank you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "I agree that was a disrespectful form of address. Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Er… I threw a party because it's my birthday," replied James, trying to think of a way to frame the situation that wouldn't result in him landing a hundred years' worth of detentions.

"The party is not the problem," said Professor McGonagall. "The problem is that you chose to celebrate in the Forbidden Forest."

"Technically," said James, "we were _above_ the Forbidden Forest. I'm not sure if there are rules about that."

Professor McGonagall blinked. "Explain."

"We Transfigured a tree," said James.

"It was this massive old oak," added Sirius. "One of the tallest in the Forest."

"We turned it into a treehouse," said James. "I honestly wish you could have seen it. It was awesome."

"It was brilliant," agreed Peter. "We enlarged the trunk and hollowed it out to make room inside. Plus we turned a pinecone into a disco ball. Stroke of genius, that."

"We took some safety precautions, too," said Remus. "There were anti-gravity spells around the whole perimeter of the tree to support the treehouse and the people in it, in case something went wrong. After the events of tonight, you can imagine my relief that we prepared in advance."

James could have kissed Remus for playing the role of responsible prefect so perfectly. Especially considering they _hadn't_ put any anti-gravitational spells on the treehouse.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows had travelled further and further up her forehead during this discussion. "Can you show me?" she asked at last.

Sirius grinned and drew his wand from his pocket, pressing the tip against his temple. He closed his eyes, and when he pulled his wand away, a thin silver thread hung from it. Professor McGonagall made no comment on Sirius' ability to cast a nonverbal memory charm; she merely slid a small stone bowl, roughly the size of an ashtray, across her desk towards them. Sirius tapped his wand against the bowl, dropping the memory inside.

Leaning forward, Professor McGonagall prodded the contents with her wand and watched as a silvery tree rose from the bowl. Small, wispy figures on broomsticks darted around the tree, shooting tendrils of smoke towards it. Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and the memory sped up, the figures zooming around as they widened the trunk of the tree and elongated its branches.

"Impressive," she said at last, pushing the bowl towards Sirius, who used his wand to pick up the memory inside. "That took a fair bit of magic. Unfortunately, as you made the poor choice of building this treehouse off grounds and hosting a party there past curfew, there must be consequences."

James winced. "I was afraid of that."

"Deducting fifty points each seems more than fair. Each of you will also serve a month's worth of detentions. _Separate_ detentions," she added, and the look of glee on Sirius' face vanished. "I think that is enough for tonight. Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew, you may go. Potter, I would ask you to stay for another minute."

Sirius shot James a pained look before closing the office door, leaving James alone with Professor McGonagall. They regarded each other for a moment.

"You are supremely talented at Transfiguration, Potter," said Professor McGonagall at last. "It is rare that I have a student who is so innately gifted."

James would have been less stunned if she had offered him his own set of tartan robes. "Erm," he said. "Thanks. You're not bad, yourself."

A corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "I suppose it is an exercise in futility to tell a sixteen-year-old boy to be more careful."

James grinned. "If I were more careful, I'd be a worse wizard and a worse Chaser. We don't want that, do we?"

"Certainly not," replied Professor McGonagall, returning his smile. "I must admit I am hoping to display the Cup in my office this year. I've even got a space picked out for it." She gestured towards a glass cabinet behind her, which was rather conspicuously empty.

"No worries, Professor. We're going to flatten Ravenclaw."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, adjusting her pointed hat as she stood up. "You may go now, Potter."

His hand was on the door handle when he heard her clear her throat.

"Another thing," said Professor McGonagall, examining her wand. "If one needed a safe place to go during an electrical storm, there is a passageway on the second floor behind the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced that leads to a small grotto under the castle."

James stared at her. She made a shooing motion with her hand before sweeping into the room at the back of her office, effectively ending their conversation.

That was probably for the best, seeing as he didn't have the heart to tell her they'd discovered that passageway in their second year.

* * *

A/N: I am so sorry it's taken me this long to put up a new chapter! I bit off more than I could chew this summer, leaving me with little time to write and edit (not to mention that this chapter needed a looot of work before I was happy with it). Things have calmed down now so I will be back on a regular (~every 2 week) posting schedule! Thanks for sticking with!


	7. The Beast Within

The first days of April were cold and wet, with students tracking mud on the marble staircase and heavy grey clouds hanging above the tables of the Great Hall. The gloomy weather suited Severus just fine, as it meant that the Intents' next bonding activity would be held inside. This was far preferable to what had happened the previous week, when Bella had led them all down to the Black Lake to partake in something she called 'tubbing', which involved forcing each other underwater until they gasped for air, gulping murky lake water into their lungs. Severus in particular had hated this activity, as he had never learnt to swim growing up, and it had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to panic when Evan Rosier continued to hold his head down even after he had swallowed three huge lungfuls of water.

Afterwards, Severus had been the one to suggest that they crash James Potter's birthday party as a sort of palate cleanser. Bella had found the idea delightful, and as far as Severus was concerned, the look on James Potter's face when he realized he was outnumbered was worth a thousand near-drownings at Rosier's hands.

Smiling to himself as he remembered the way James' treehouse had imploded, taking all of his birthday gifts with it, Severus pushed open the gilded door to Dungeon Thirteen. Immediately, a foul smell hit his nostrils, and he gagged, covering his mouth.

Dungeon Thirteen's normally immaculate furnishings were covered with what looked to be the remains of animals. Carcasses of creatures twisted in unnatural positions were draped across the high-backed armchairs, and the white carpet was stained with what Severus suspected was a mixture of blood, pelts, and dung. The overall effect was grotesque, and the smell was nearly unbearable.

"Severus!" exclaimed Bella, bounding towards him and clapping him on the shoulder. She was positively beaming, seemingly unaffected by the smell. "Today's ritual will be a little more up your alley than last week's, I think."

Severus cast a sceptical eye over the carcasses that littered the room, his eyes watering from the stench. "I'd be interested to learn what part of my personality suggests I'd be delighted to find myself surrounded by dead animals."

Bella laughed, beckoning the other Intents closer. Most of them, like Severus, were having a hard time hiding their disgust. "Don't worry about the smell, my loves! Today, we are going to learn something supremely interesting. We are going to make Inferi!"

Severus' eyes widened. Beside him, Rabastan Lestrange looked horrified, while the other Intents just seemed confused.

Bella let out a loud sigh. "Who here knows what Inferi are?"

"They're zombies," blurted Lestrange. "Reanimated corpses that —"

Severus noticed Bella's frown and decided it would be best if he stepped in. "Not zombies, Rabastan," he said quickly. "Zombies contain a fragment of the soul of the wizard who animates them. Inferi are more like puppets, enchanted to do their master's bidding. They lack a will of their own."

"Beautiful definition," said Bella, smiling. "Today, you are going to learn how to enchant a corpse to create an Inferius. We will be using animals, of course, seeing as human specimens are in short supply, but rest assured that the process is the same for both."

She divided them into pairs, placing Severus with Lestrange, whose face had turned a distinct shade of green.

"My great-uncle was eaten by a zombie," he explained to Severus, wincing as Bella handed them each an animal to work on. "It doesn't sit right with me, messing with the dead. I think we ought to just leave them be."

"These are just ferrets, though," said Severus, prodding his ferret with his wand. "Even reanimated, they're hardly dangerous."

"Only if you lack imagination," said Bella, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of them. "You will be imbuing these animals with your will. They will do exactly what you want, so don't be afraid to _think big_."

Lestrange shuddered.

Animating the Inferi ended up being more difficult than Severus had anticipated. The process required maintaining several different spells at once, and as the finishing step, they had to use their own blood to mark the carcasses with Ancient Runes.

"Make sure your Runes correspond with what you want your Inferi to be able to do," instructed Bella, watching their progress. "The more specific you can be, the better."

After about an hour, the room was filled with animals shambling about with varying degrees of realism. Lestrange's ferret lay curled up at his feet, the Rune for 'sleep' written in blood on its pale fur.

"I hate this," said Lestrange, not bothering to hide his revulsion as he stared down at his ferret.

Severus shrugged, watching his ferret, which was tripping over its own paws in an effort to chase its tail. "I was expecting worse."

"Show of hands, who knows how to get rid of an Inferi?" asked Bella, raising her own hand into the air.

Lestranges' hand shot up. "Fire."

"Exactly!" said Bella. "Any sort of light or heat will repel an Inferius, but fire works best. Rodolphus, you answered the question correctly, would you like to demonstrate?"

Lestrange looked like he would rather eat his own socks, but he nodded. He drew a deep breath through his nose before pointing his wand at his ferret, which vanished immediately in a column of flame. He lowered his wand only after the fire had burned itself out, his shoulders sagging a little.

After they had burned what was left of the Inferi, Bella made them clean the entire dungeon using rags and toothbrushes. It was nearly midnight by the time they finished, and Severus' knees hurt from scrubbing dung out of the rug.

"That's enough for tonight," Bella said at last, surveying the room. Even after a good cleaning, stains still lingered on the chairs, and the carpet looked decidedly grimy. "I'll have the house-elves do the rest. Rodolphus, let's go to the kitchens for a Butterbeer — you pushed yourself tonight, and that makes me proud."

Severus followed Mulciber and Avery out of Dungeon Thirteen, and as he shut the door he saw Bella slip her arm around Lestranges' shoulders in much the same way she had with Severus after they had learned the Unforgivable Curses.

Mulciber elbowed Severus in the side. "Guess what?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You need help in Charms again?"

"Very funny," deadpanned Mulciber. "But no. Look what I nicked."

He pulled his cloak aside to reveal a dead kitten tucked into a pocket of his robes. It looked almost peaceful; with its eyes closed, it could be sleeping.

"A while back, we used your de-boning spell on a cat," explained Mulciber, his icy blue eyes narrowing to slits as he smiled. "A muddy cat belonging to a muddy girl. I thought she might like us to give her a new one, now that we know how."

"You're sick!" cried Avery, but he looked elated.

Severus felt his heart sink. That cat had belonged to Mary MacDonald, one of Lily's friends in Gryffindor. If it somehow got out that the Intents knew how to create Inferi, if Lily linked it back to him…

"What do you say?" asked Mulciber, leering at Severus. "You in?"

Severus pressed his lips together as he remembered telling Lily that he was trying to stay neutral. Giving Mulciber the green light to terrorize Lily's friends was hardly neutral behaviour. She might not forgive him so quickly for that.

Then again, she _had_ sided with James Potter and his mates at their party, hadn't she? She hadn't so much as looked at him during the ambush in the Forbidden Forest. Not to mention she was protecting a potential werewolf, of all things. She couldn't lecture _him_ about consorting with Dark creatures.

Severus nodded slowly, his eyes on the kitten. "I'm in."

* * *

After dinner on Tuesday, Lily was walking back to Gryffindor tower with Parvana and Marlene, who was bemoaning the fact that Lily wouldn't give her the Detachable Cribbing Cuffs she'd confiscated from Eustace Fawley during Herbology.

"I'm just saying, you haven't turned them in to McGonagall yet, nobody'd be the wiser —"

"I can't risk it, Marly," said Lily, skipping a trick step on the stairs. "McGonagall's already got her eye on me thanks to the fiasco that was Potter's party. I need to fly under the radar for a while."

"Radar: a system for detecting the presence of aircraft," recited Marlene. "Developed by the Muggle military during the Global Wizarding War. Certain to come up on our O.W.L."

Parvana giggled. "If anyone needs the Cuffs, it's me. You've never gotten less than an Acceptable in your life."

"I'm not trying to _cheat_ ," said Marlene as they reached the sixth floor landing. "I just want to pass notes with Mary. Which would be possible if a certain red-haired someone would conveniently let those Cuffs fall out of her pocket…"

"Maybe I'll start wearing them as a fashion accessory," said Lily, grinning at Marlene's mock outrage. "Show off my power as a prefect. Make everyone jealous —"

A sudden shriek echoed up the staircase. Lily stopped in her tracks, causing Marlene to collide with her back.

"Did you hear that?" asked Lily.

"Yeah," said Marlene. "That sounded like —"

A second scream reached their ears. Immediately, Lily began to sprint down the staircase towards the sound, Marlene and Parvana close behind; for better or worse, five years as Gryffindors had trained them to run towards danger rather than away from it.

Upon reaching the sixth floor landing, they raced down the corridor and rounded the corner to see the door to the Arithmancy classroom hanging ajar. Lily yanked the door open at once, drawing her wand as she burst into the room.

Inside, Mulciber was looming over a terrified Mary MacDonald, something clutched in his hands that Lily couldn't see. Mary was sobbing and shaking her head as she tried to ward off whatever Mulciber was holding.

"Mary!" cried Marlene. She made to run to Mary's side, but Mulciber already had his wand out. There was a bang and Marlene's arms snapped to her sides before she fell to the ground, stiff as a board.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" yelled Lily, pointing her wand at Mulciber. "What is WRONG with you?" Behind her, Parvana murmured a Disarming Charm, and Mulciber's wand flew out of his grasp. Mulciber merely chuckled at that before turning towards Lily, and her breath caught as she saw what was in his hands.

It was a kitten with the same tabby colouring as Fletcher, but something was horribly wrong with it. Its fur was matted with blood, and its eyes were a milky white. It stretched its paws towards her, claws extended, as it struggled to free itself from Mulciber's grasp.

"I heard Mary was missing a cat," said Mulciber, stroking the kitten with one of his meaty hands. "I thought she might like to have a replacement."

"That's not a cat!" wailed Mary. "It's — it attacked me — Lily, it's _dead_!"

Lily stared at the kitten, a wave of nausea washing over her at the way its tongue lolled out of its mouth.

Mulciber grinned at her horrified expression. "Isn't it precious? And it _loves_ Mary, muddy blood and all."

He tossed the kitten carelessly into the air; it landed on the floor with a sickening splat. For a moment, it didn't move, and Lily hoped it was well and truly dead; but then its limbs begin to twitch and it staggered to its feet before making a tottering beeline towards Mary. Mary shrieked and clambered onto a desk, drawing her legs towards her chest, but the kitten leapt farther than it should have been able to and sank its claws into her calf.

Mary screamed, shaking her leg frantically in an attempt to dislodge the kitten, but it held fast. Lily took a deep breath and ran towards the kitten, trying to grab it, but it sank its teeth into her hand and she pulled back, swearing. Rivulets of blood began to run down Mary's leg.

"Call it off!" demanded Lily, whirling towards Mulciber. "It's hurting her!"

"Oh, is it?" asked Mulciber, putting his hands behind his head. "I hadn't noticed." He made for the door, whistling, but Parvana blocked his way, pointing Mulciber's own wand at him.

"Try me," said Parvana in a low voice.

Mulciber raised an eyebrow. "Challenge accepted."

Before Lily could react, he grabbed Parvana by the wrist and twisted; there was a sickening crack and Parvana cried out in pain. Moving quickly now, Mulciber plucked the wand from her hand and pushed her roughly to the ground, trying to slip out the door.

Rage flared in Lily's chest, and she pointed her wand at his back. " _IMPEDIMENTA_!"

But it was too late; the jinx ricocheted uselessly off the doorframe as Mulciber ducked around the corner.

Mary shrieked again. "Lily, HELP ME!"

Lily whirled around and pointed her wand at the kitten, which was crawling up Mary's leg, its claws tearing into her skin. " _Petrificus totalus_!" The spell hit the kitten on its hindquarters, sinking into its matted fur, but the kitten continued its climb, seemingly unaffected.

"What the — why didn't that work?" cried Lily, but Mary was sobbing too hard to respond. " _Diffindo_!" The spell slashed three large gashes across the kitten's back but didn't so much as slow it down; it had reached Mary's stomach and was clawing its way up her blouse, teeth bared.

"Please," whimpered Mary, trying to push the kitten away. "Stop it — please..."

"I don't know how!" exclaimed Lily, reaching for the kitten and attempting to pry it off Mary's shirt. "It won't — nothing works —"

There was a whooshing sound and a jet of silver light hit Marlene where she was lying, ramrod straight, on the ground. Lily turned to see Parvana slumped against the wall, one hand cradled in her lap and the other pointing her wand at Marlene.

Marlene bolted upright as soon as the countercurse hit her. "I am going to _murder_ Mulciber," she growled. "Thanks for that, Parvana. You alright?"

"Fine," panted Parvana, her breathing shallow. "Help Mary. Please."

"Right," said Marlene, turning around. "Lily, this disgusting _thing_ is undead."

"I can see that," growled Lily, sending another ineffective Cutting Hex at the kitten, which had nearly reached Mary's neck.

"Fire," said Parvana slowly, her eyes widening. "We need to use fire."

"Exactly," said Marlene, her expression grim. "Mary, cover your face, I don't want you getting burned. Lily, Parvana, _Incendios_ on three?" Slightly perplexed, Lily nodded, holding her wand out. "One… two… _three_!"

Three Fire-Making Spells streaked into the kitten like missiles, lighting it ablaze; it tumbled to the floor, writhing, something akin to a scream coming out of its mouth. The column of fire flared brightly, and as Lily watched, astonished, the flames burnt out as if nothing had ever happened. There wasn't even a trace of ashes where the kitten had been.

Marlene held Mary as she sobbed. "Shh, it's alright," she cooed, stroking Mary's hair. "It's gone now. It can't hurt you anymore."

Lily knelt beside Mary to examine her legs, which were covered in scratches that continued to bleed. "We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Mary shook her head, hiccuping. "I can't walk to the hospital wing like this, if someone sees… I don't want the whole school to know…"

"You stay here then, and I'll go get her," said Lily determinedly.

"I'll come with," said Parvana, standing up shakily. "Better we go in twos. Plus…" She gestured to her wrist, which she was holding at an odd angle.

"Are you going to tell Pomfrey what happened?" asked Lily as they stepped into the corridor.

"That I had Mulciber wandless and he still managed to get the better of me?" said Parvana, giving Lily a wan smile. "No thanks. I'd rather her think it was a Quidditch accident."

Lily frowned. "We can't let him get away with this."

"Yeah, but what can Madam Pomfrey do?" asked Parvana. "Besides, it's just a broken wrist. I mean, it definitely hurts, but it takes about a minute to fix."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "You know, in the Muggle world, breaking a bone is kind of a big deal."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. You have to wear a plaster cast — sort of like a brace — for months, and you can't get it wet. It's annoying, and itchy, and takes a long time to heal."

"Makes me glad I'm a witch," said Parvana, wincing as she examined her wrist. "I'll just have to get him back the next time we play Slytherin."

Madam Pomfrey noticed Parvana's injury immediately upon their arrival to the hospital wing, and indeed was able to mend it in about two minutes. As Madam Pomfrey gently flexed Parvana's newly-healed wrist, Parvana caught Lily's astonished expression and smiled a little. "Quicker than a plaster cast?"

"You have no idea," said Lily. "Also, Madam Pomfrey, we were hoping… there's someone else, upstairs, who you should see…"

Madam Pomfrey took one look at the seriousness of their expressions and followed them back to the Arithmancy classroom, where Marlene was still holding Mary. Since they had left, Mary had stopped crying, and was now staring blankly into the distance, a dazed expression on her face.

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue as she examined the long cuts on Mary's leg, which continued to bleed. "These were caused by Dark magic, were they not?"

"Yeah," said Marlene hoarsely.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, pulling a jar full of a foul-smelling poultice out of her robes and using it to staunch the bleeding. "What happened?"

"Dunno," said Mary dully.

Madam Pomfrey's head snapped up and she fixed Mary with a glare. "Young lady. You have nothing to gain by protecting whoever did this to you." She turned her steely gaze on Parvana, who swallowed nervously. "And I'm supposed to believe you broke your wrist in a _Quidditch accident_?"

"It wasn't a person," muttered Mary. "It was a creature. And we — well, they — dealt with it."

Marlene looked at Mary in alarm, but Mary kept her eyes fixed on the poultice Madam Pomfrey was slathering on her legs.

"A creature," repeated Madam Pomfrey, shaking her head. "Well then. I can't force you to tell me the details. But I think it would do some good if you were to speak with a _qualified adult_ about this situation."

With that, she pulled out her wand and began to murmur an incantation that sounded more like a song. Lily watched in amazement as the gashes on Mary's legs knit back together, leaving only thin, pale scars in their place.

"What sort of spell was that?" asked Lily once Madam Pomfrey had finished. "It didn't sound like anything I've ever heard before."

"It manipulates the layers of the skin," replied Madam Pomfrey, stowing her wand in her robes. "Heals superficial cuts easily enough, though it takes some finesse to get a clean appearance. Dark magic has a tendency to scar, but these should fade in a week or so." She turned towards Mary once again, her expression stern. "Anything else you want to tell me about what happened this evening?"

"No, ma'am," said Mary softly. "Thank you, though."

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue and muttered something that sounded like 'children' before bustling out of the classroom.

After she had left, Lily, Marlene, and Parvana helped Mary back to the Gryffindor dormitory, tucking her into bed. Lily handed Mary a vial of Dreamless Sleep that Madam Pomfrey had instructed she take to prevent the formation of anxieties related to the attack. Mary downed the vial without complaint before closing her eyes, her chest rising and falling as her breathing slowed.

"One thing is still bothering me," said Lily finally, once she was sure Mary was asleep. "How did you know to use fire?"

Marlene shrugged. "Everybody knows that, don't they? There're all those children's stories about zombies, Inferi, and the like, and the hero always uses some kind of fire spell to get rid of them."

"In Muggle stories, you have to kill a zombie by taking out its brains," Lily said. "That's what I was trying to do. I thought… if I could get to its brains…"

Marlene shook her head. "Nah. It doesn't work like that."

Parvana smiled a little. "First broken bones, now zombies. Muggles have some odd ideas, don't they?"

"That's one way of putting it," said Lily darkly. This was the third time in recent weeks that she'd been caught out for lacking what was apparently common knowledge in the Wizarding World. She wondered if this pattern would continue throughout her life. Maybe when she was a crotchety old witch her neighbours would laugh at her for being so ignorant.

Marlene was still watching Mary, who was sleeping soundly. "I worry about her," Marlene murmured into Lily's ear. "And about you, too."

Lily looked at her in surprise. "I'm not the one Mulciber sicced a zombie kitten on."

"No, but you're a Muggleborn like she is," said Marlene. "It feels like the war is getting closer, and it makes me nervous."

Lily knew what Marlene meant. During her previous years at Hogwarts, it hadn't been so important that her parents were Muggles, but now it seemed like she was constantly being reminded that she was an outsider. "Just because Mulciber has a case of pureblood fever doesn't mean we're at war,"

"Not yet, at least," said Marlene.

Lily sighed and rested her head on Marlene's shoulder. "Not yet."

* * *

Severus spent the next week doing his best to track the movements of Remus Lupin and his friends, especially after dinner, when he figured they were most likely to sneak out. The full moon was only days away, and he was hoping they'd let something slip when they didn't realize he was listening.

Unfortunately, he hadn't overheard anything enlightening so far. All four Gryffindor boys were still being punished for being stupid enough to throw a party in the Forbidden Forest, so after dinner they usually split up to serve their separate detentions. James would head to the kitchens, where Severus assumed he was tasked with helping the house-elves tidy up. Peter went to the dungeons to sort through Slughorn's potions cabinet, and Sirius and Remus would vanish up Hogwarts' many flights of stairs, presumably doing something tedious for McGonagall or Flitwick.

Severus got his chance the night of the full moon. Remus Lupin wasn't at dinner, and Sirius lingered at the Gryffindor table long after James and Peter had headed to their detentions. Finally, Sirius slipped out of the Great Hall alone. After waiting a minute, Severus followed him into the Entrance Hall, where he was just in time to see Sirius' long legs bounding up the marble staircase and out of sight.

Severus slung his bag over his shoulder and followed as quickly as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself. He reached the first floor landing just in time to see Sirius vanish around a corner. Severus felt his heart pounding in his chest. Sirius was going to the _hospital wing_. This was new.

The corridor to the hospital wing was empty by the time Severus reached it. He crept forward and pressed his ear to the infirmary door, but no noise came from inside. Taking a breath, Severus pushed the door open as quietly as possible, but no sooner had he stepped inside then he felt a pair of hands grab him by the collar and shove him roughly onto a nearby cot.

"I knew it," said Sirius triumphantly, drawing the curtains around the cot. "You _are_ following us. I told James, but he didn't believe me."

Severus made to pull out his wand, but Sirius was ready for it. He grabbed a handful of Severus' hair and shoved him onto the cot, snatching the wand from his hands.

"Stop — give that back," said Severus, scrambling into a sitting position.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, twirling the wand between his fingers. "Or else you'll what? Punch me? I'd like to see you try."

"You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" sneered Severus. "Firstborn of the House of Black, think you can shove around whoever you want —"

"Not whoever I want, Snivellus," said Sirius, feigning a yawn. "Just you, really."

"Why did you lure me here?"

"Lure?" repeated Sirius incredulously. "I didn't _lure_ you anywhere. I was minding my own business and you followed me like the little sneak you are. Just like you followed us to the Shrieking Shack. And to our party."

Suddenly, Sirius lunged forward and grabbed Severus' arms, forcing him back onto the cot and pinning him down. Severus thrashed around, trying to twist free, but it was no use. Weeks of running drills with the other Intents may have given his scrawny frame some muscle, but he was no match for Sirius, who was tall and strongly built.

"I heard something interesting from Remus at that party," said Sirius, his breath hot against Severus' ear. "Lily told him you've been coming up with _theories_ about his illness."

"Not theories," snarled Severus, trying to push Sirius off of him. "Facts."

Sirius grinned, clearly enjoying watching Severus struggle. "Theories and gossip and speculation, Snivellus. Unless you've seen him transform with your own two eyes?"

"So you admit he transforms?"

Sirius let go of him then, but before Severus could sit up, Sirius grabbed him by the front of his robes and hauled him against the wall, his wand pressed into Severus' throat.

"I admit _nothing_ ," growled Sirius. "But if you're so intent on finding out, why don't you follow the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and see where it leads?"

"Tell me how to get past the branches," wheezed Severus. Sirius' wand was cutting into his windpipe.

"Easy," said Sirius. "Touch the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow. Password to the tunnel's 'open sesame.'"

He released Severus, who staggered against the wall, willing himself to maintain his balance.

"And when I kill the monster you call a friend?" rasped Severus, massaging his throat.

Sirius barked a laugh. "You're a joke, you know that, Snivellus? You couldn't so much as singe a single hair on his head. Or hide, as the case may be." He winked, then checked his watch, which was a tacky Muggle thing. "Pomfrey's already left with Remus, so I'd say you've got, what, half an hour till moon rise? Make sure to cast that Disillusionment charm you do so well, so she doesn't see you on her way back to the castle."

He held Severus' wand out. Severus took it, eyeing Sirius sceptically. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"It's quite straightforward, really," said Sirius airily. "If you want to know what's wrong with Remus so badly, you deserve to find out." He pulled back the curtains to expose the empty hospital wing before turning back towards Severus, a mad light dancing in his eyes. "When you see him, give Remus my regards."

* * *

James collapsed into a squashy armchair in the Gryffindor common room, rubbing his hands, which were dry and cracked from washing dishes with the house-elves in the kitchens. He actually found his detentions quite pleasant, so far — he enjoyed the mindless rhythm of scrubbing the pots and pans until they were sparkling clean, and the house-elves always gave him treats at the end of the night.

Peter passed him a jar of snail essence. "Sirius still in detention?"

"Guess so," said James, twisting the lid off the jar and scooping out a handful of the greyish slime. "Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"

They had played three rounds of Exploding Snap and were halfway through building an elaborate card castle when Sirius crawled through the portrait hole, grinning.

"Exploding Snap?" asked Sirius, joining James and Peter at the table. "I've got a better game for you. It's called… wait for it… Exploding _Snape_."

Peter groaned, but James laughed, stacking another card atop the castle. "I'm in. How do we play? Slipping as many firecrackers as possible into Snape's dirty old bag?"

"Better," said Sirius, grinning. "We watch as Snivellus sneaks down to the Whomping Willow and laugh at the look on his face when he realizes he's about to be mauled by a werewolf and it's his own nosey fault."

It was Peter's turn to laugh this time, but James frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he was snooping around like usual, wanting to know what's wrong with Remus, so I told him to go find out," said Sirius, shrugging.

Peter sniggered. "I'd like to see him try to get past the Whomping Willow."

"Oh, I told him how," said Sirius, waving his hand. "Not that it wouldn't be amusing watching him try to avoid its branches, but I figured it was best to cut to the chase."

"Sirius," said James slowly, "please tell me you're joking."

"Of course I'm not joking," said Sirius. "The nosey git wants to go toe-to-toe with a bloody _werewolf_. Who am I to withhold information in the presence of such stupidity?"

"Sirius, that's not a werewolf, it's _Remus_ ," said James, jumping to his feet. The movement knocked over the card castle, which exploded with a loud bang, dusting their robes with ash.

"Is it really Remus, though?" asked Peter thoughtfully. "I've always been unclear if Remus and the wolf are one and the same, like with Animagi, or if he disappears entirely when he transforms, leaving behind only the wolf… Not many texts on the philosophy of lycanthropy in the library, you know…"

"Regardless, Pete, they're not gonna put the wolf on trial when Snape gets killed," snapped James, striding towards the portrait hole. Sirius made to follow him, but James whirled around, pointing his wand at Sirius' throat.

"You're not coming," said James in a low voice. "You're going to Dumbledore and telling him exactly what you did, and then you lot are going to pray that I get to Snape before Remus does."

He barely registered the look of shock on Sirius' face before he was off, scrambling out the portrait hole and down Hogwarts' many flights of stairs as quickly as he could. He sprinted through the Entrance Hall onto the grounds, ignoring the wind that whipped around him, chilling him down to the bone.

When he reached the Whomping Willow, he darted towards the base of the tree, not bothering to freeze its branches. He flung himself onto his stomach as one particularly large bough came crashing towards him, and rolled out of the way as many smaller branches lashed at him like whips. One struck him across the shoulder and he swore, hurrying forward to the tunnel which lay at the base of the tree.

He flung himself into the tunnel headfirst, nearly knocking his chin against a stone that jutted up from the ground.

"SNAPE!" bellowed James, but there was no response. He ran through the tunnel as quickly as he could, bent nearly in two and scrambling with his arms to find purchase against the uneven ground.

Finally, he saw a faint light at the other end of the tunnel, coming from the trapdoor that led to the Shrieking Shack. James drew his wand, and his stomach turned as he realized that Severus wasn't there. Breaking into a near sprint, he jumped upwards and reached for the handle on the trapdoor, ready to pull it down and face the wolf on the other side —

He collided with something solid and invisible mid-air and tumbled to the ground. It felt like he was lying atop a tangle of limbs, a body… he could see a dim outline that moved as the body fought to throw him off…

"Snape?!" exclaimed James, scrambling to his feet.

"Come to see the show?" sneered Severus, who had Disillusioned himself so well that James could barely tell he was there.

"Snape, we have to go," panted James. "It's not safe —"

"You don't say," said Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks for the offer, but you're stupider than you look if you seriously think I'm not going to find out what's up there."

Severus reached a shimmery hand up, grasping the handle of the trapdoor. James tackled him, sending them falling in a jumble to the ground, but not before the trapdoor swung open above them.

Light flooded the tunnel and James looked up, squinting. He could see the drawing room of the Shrieking Shack above him, all its furniture where it should be.

Then he heard a growl, long and low, and a dark shape blocked the entrance to the Shrieking Shack.

Instinctively, James threw his arms out, shielding Severus, even as a part of his brain told him it was crazy to do so, since Severus was Disillusioned. He, James, was the only human the wolf would see —

" _Lumos_!" shouted Severus, and light illuminated the tunnel, reflecting off the wolf's eyes, which were brown and round and grotesquely human. The wolf bared its fangs.

It lunged at the same time James raised his wand. " _STUPEFY_!"

The spell ricocheted off the wolf's pelt, knocking it backwards slightly. Its hindquarters were still in the Shack, but its front hung out of the trapdoor. It snapped its jaws as its massive claws slashed through the air, tearing at James' robes.

" _STUPEFY_!" cried James again, but the spell merely glanced off the wolf's muzzle. It shook its head, annoyed, and readied itself to lunge again. Frantically, James pointed his wand at the trapdoor, praying that his next spell would work. " _COLLOPORTUS_!"

The trapdoor swung upward right as the wolf lunged. The wolf snarled as the door forced it backwards, its paws scrabbling for purchase. At last, the door slammed shut, trapping the wolf inside the Shrieking Shack.

James kept his wand pointed at the trapdoor, breathing heavily. From behind it came an anguished, eerily human moan and then a bang. The wolf had apparently flung itself against the trapdoor, which shuddered under its weight.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, SNAPE?" bellowed James, pushing him down the tunnel, towards the Whomping Willow. "RUN!"

Severus didn't need telling twice. He fled, his Disillusioned outline disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel. James followed close behind, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach as he heard more bangs and the splintering of wood coming from behind him. _Please let the door hold, please let it hold…_

The branches of the Whomping Willow were still as James hauled himself out of the tunnel. In front of him, Severus was panting, hands on his knees. Severus tapped his wand to his head, undoing his Disillusionment charm, and looked at James, fury burning in his black eyes.

"I didn't ask you to — "

"You're lucky I did," spat James. He was shaking, but he wasn't sure if it was from adrenaline or the cold or something else. "You were inches away from a werewolf, and your spell of choice is _Lumos_? You stupid, nosey, half-brained —"

"I think that's quite enough, Mr Potter," said a calm voice. James turned to see a tall, white-bearded figure striding towards them, followed by Sirius.

"Would you two be so kind as to accompany me to my office?" said Albus Dumbledore. It wasn't a question.


	8. Punishments

**A/N:** There's a bit of canon dialogue in this chapter! Of course, all such dialogue belongs to JK Rowling, not me.

* * *

"…And there's no password to the tunnel, either, I stood there for nearly five minutes saying 'open sesame' like an imbecile before I realized, so thanks for that —"

"Well, Snivellus, I can hardly be blamed if you're too stupid to look with your eyes and see the tunnel laying right there —"

"You tried to kill me!"

"YOU WANTED TO BE KILLED!" bellowed Sirius. He and Severus were standing at opposite ends of Dumbledore's office, shouting at each other. Dumbledore, for his part, was sitting behind his desk with his hands clasped, his eyes flicking back and forth to either side of the room as if following a lively sports match.

Sirius jabbed a finger at Severus, his handsome features contorted with disgust. "You noticed something was dodgy with Remus and instead of _minding your own damn business_ like a normal person, you stick your great greasy nose in it! You start snooping around for clues, figure out he's a werewolf, and then decide you want to _see for yourself_? None of that is my fault!"

"No," sneered Severus, "your fault lies in telling me how to get past the protections designed to keep students safe from that monster, just because you thought it would be _funny_ if I got injured, or killed —"

"Well, I wasn't about to cry over it. I can see the epitaph now: 'Here lies Severus Snape, who walked into a werewolf den and was surprised when he got bit. Rest in bloody peace.'"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," said Severus dryly. "You're acting like a proper Black now, getting a half-breed monster to kill a half-blood for your own amusement. I should tell Bella; I'm sure she'd be proud."

Sirius lunged at Severus then, but Dumbledore waved his wand and Sirius went flying backwards into a chair at the far end of the room. Sirius struggled for a moment, but it was no use; he seemed to be bound to the chair by invisible chains. Eventually, he stopped thrashing at the bonds that held him in place and resorted to glaring at Severus, too angry to speak.

"Mr Potter," said Dumbledore, startling James, who was slouched in a chair across from Dumbledore's desk and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. "Is what Severus claims true? Did Sirius purposefully tell Severus how to get past the Whomping Willow, with the intention that Remus Lupin harm him?"

"I don't know, sir," said James, crossing his arms. His shoulder throbbed where the Whomping Willow had cut him. "You'll have to ask Sirius what his motivations were. I definitely don't know what he was thinking."

Sirius stared at James, his mouth hanging open. "James," he said. "You know I wasn't trying to — I would never —"

"I don't know anything about you," said James, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"He was following us!" exclaimed Sirius, a pleading note in his voice. "He wanted to get at us, at Remus — wanted to know how to get past the tree — I only thought…"

Dumbledore eyed Sirius gravely. "Remus Lupin spends the full moon in the Shrieking Shack because it is the only place we can be assured contains him during his transformation. He voluntarily isolates himself for his own safety as much as for the safety of the student body. Regardless of Severus Snape's machinations, Remus' secret was not yours to give away."

Sirius' face paled. "I never meant to — I wasn't thinking about Remus…"

"That much is obvious," said Dumbledore softly.

Severus' expression had grown more and more sullen as Dumbledore spoke. Finally, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, he burst out, "So you admitted Lupin into Hogwarts _knowing_ what he was, knowing the danger he poses —"

"You're quite right," said Dumbledore calmly, cutting Severus off. "I allowed Remus Lupin a place in Hogwarts. He deserves an education just as much as any other student in this castle, and it is for this reason that _you must not reveal his secret_."

Severus stared uncomprehendingly at Dumbledore. James thought it looked a bit like he was short-circuiting. "Do you mean to say," said Severus at last, "that you really expect me to — to cover for that… monster?"

"That is exactly what I expect," said Dumbledore, looking quite pleased that Severus had grasped the matter so quickly.

Severus shook his head in disbelief, his stringy hair falling across his face. "And if I refuse?"

"Then you shall be expelled," said Dumbledore seriously.

"No," said Severus immediately. "You're _joking_."

"I am quite in earnest," said Dumbledore. "And if you feel that you are incapable of discretion on this matter, there are ways to compel your silence. I am not opposed to modifying your memory so that you forget you ever took an interest in Remus Lupin. There are also Unbreakable Vows, though I must confess I find it distasteful to threaten you with silence or death, so I hope you will agree that such drastic measures are unnecessary."

"But — why?" spluttered Severus. "Why go through all this effort to protect a —"

"A human being," said Dumbledore. "A person much the same as you or I, who was merely a child when he was bitten, through no fault of his own, and has since suffered in ways I would not wish upon my worst enemy."

"But he's a _danger_ , the other students deserve to know — "

"I see I will not convince you on this matter," said Dumbledore sadly. "Luckily for Remus Lupin, I am the headmaster of this school and you are not. As such, he will remain a student at Hogwarts, however much you may disagree with my decision. Now, do I have your word that you will not tell a soul what you saw tonight?"

Severus and Dumbledore stared at each other for a full minute. Sirius took the opportunity to nudge James' chair with his foot, trying to get his attention, but James looked away, pretending like he was supremely interested in picking the dirt off his robes.

At last, Severus nodded sullenly. "Fine."

"I am relieved to hear it," said Dumbledore, smiling and seeming to relax a bit. "On that note, it's getting late. You have my permission to return to your respective dormitories."

James didn't need telling twice and jumped out of his chair. Sirius made to stand up as well, but Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Mr Black, I'm afraid I must ask you to stay a while longer, so that we may talk privately."

Sirius cast a desperate glance at James, who did his best to shrug indifferently. James stepped out of Dumbledore's office, Severus close behind, and began to descend the spiral staircase as quickly as he could, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and Severus.

"Here's hoping he's expelled," came Severus' voice behind him, echoing off the stone walls.

James rolled his eyes. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"It's no less than he deserves, luring me to that monster —"

James whirled around, pulling his wand out and advancing on Severus. To his gratification, he saw a spark of fear in Severus' black eyes. "I'll give you one warning, _Snivellus_ ," said James in a low voice. "If I catch you so much as looking at Remus sideways, I will Transfigure your vital organs into sandbags and drag your body to the Shrieking Shack at the next full moon. I swear on my wand."

A hint of a sneer curled around Severus' lips. "And they say Slytherin is full of sadists."

"I'll make Whoever-He-Is look like Helga Hufflepuff," said James. "So I suggest you keep your greasy mouth shut." He pocketed his wand before striding away from Severus, who was standing very still in the middle of the corridor. "By the way," called James over his shoulder, "you're welcome for saving your life."

* * *

It was nearly midnight by the time James got back to his dorm. He pulled his robes over his head and collapsed onto his bed, sighing deeply.

Peter rolled over in bed to face James. It was obvious from the worried look on Peter's face that he hadn't been to sleep yet. "What happened?"

"Well, Snivellus is still with us, unfortunately," said James, yanking his socks off with rather more force than he'd intended. "Though not for lack of trying on his part, mind you."

"Did he get past the Willow?"

James nodded. "He saw Moony."

Peter's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "And — did _you_ …?"

"Yeah," said James. "I saw him too. He was… Merlin, Pete, the wolf had Remus' eyes. It was horrifying. It wasn't him, and yet it _was_."

"It didn't get you, though?" asked Peter, gesturing towards James' shoulder.

"Oh," said James, touching the long gash in his shoulder and wincing a little. "No, this was from the Willow. I'll get Poppy to look at it in the morning."

Peter nodded, lines creasing his forehead. "And Sirius…?"

"Still talking to Dumbledore," said James, pulling on his pyjamas. "He might be expelled, and good riddance."

Peter gasped. "You don't actually mean that!"

James looked at Peter for a moment before sighing. "No, I suppose I don't. But I —"

Just then, the door to the dormitory swung open and Sirius entered the room. His dark hair hung lank around his face, and his eyes were red.

"So?" asked James, crossing his arms.

"So I'm staying," said Sirius hoarsely. "We just talked. He told me —" Sirius stopped himself and lifted a shoulder. "It doesn't matter. No detention. He didn't even take points."

James raised an eyebrow. "Pity."

Sirius nodded, looking miserable. He made to walk to his bed, but James stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"You're not sleeping here," he said. "You think Remus is going to want to share a dormitory with you when he finds out what you did?"

Sirius grimaced, but he didn't look particularly surprised. "Let me get my stuff at least."

James made a show of checking his watch. "You have three minutes."

Sirius was gone in two.

The next morning, James was up before Peter. He dressed quickly, ignoring his aching body, and made his way to the hospital wing. He sat on the nearest cot, listening to the clicking of Madam Pomfrey's shoes as she approached him. "Potter," she said, sounding exasperated, "You know Remus isn't supposed to have visitors —"

"I'm here for myself, actually," said James, undoing the top of his robes to expose his injured shoulder. "Well, and I also wanted to see Remus, of course."

"He injured himself worse than usual last night, I'm afraid," said Madam Pomfrey, dropping her voice as she pulled out her wand to examine his shoulder. "He needs _rest_ , not you boys working him up —"

"I'm a healing presence, Poppy."

"Five points from Gryffindor for cheek," said Madam Pomfrey, and James grinned. She made a tutting sound as she examined his shoulder. "Someone got too close to the Whomping Willow."

"Sirius dared me," said James, gritting his teeth as she pressed her fingers into his skin. Madam Pomfrey merely raised her eyebrows, pointing her wand at the long, thin cut. Immediately, James felt a peculiar itching sensation as his skin knit itself back together.

"Thanks," he said, re-buttoning his robes.

"I noticed you have several bruises as well," said Madam Pomfrey pointedly.

James shrugged. "I can live with those. Can I see Remus now?"

Madam Pomfrey hesitated before nodding, inclining her head towards the familiar curtained cot at the end of the room. "If you upset him, Potter, I'm throwing you out. Consider yourself warned."

"Noted," said James, smiling at her.

Behind the curtains, Remus was lying on his cot and staring at the ceiling, his face pale. His bloodshot eyes flickered towards James as he pulled back the curtain.

"Something happened last night," said Remus, his knuckles white where he was gripping the sheets. "I broke my collarbone trying to — to get at something. I think it was a person. James… tell me, I didn't —"

"Everyone's okay," said James, sitting at the foot of Remus' bed. "Nobody got hurt. But Moony —" he hesitated. "Snape saw you."

Remus' bloodless face somehow paled even further. " _Saw_ me? How — I didn't —"

"He opened the trapdoor at the end of the tunnel. I managed to close it, but he caught a glimpse of you."

Remus gaped at James. "So… does that mean — did you…"

James nodded. "I saw you too."

Remus shut his eyes tightly, his mouth twisting in a grimace. "James," he rasped. "I'm _so_ —"

" _Don't_ say you're sorry," said James, cutting him off. "It wasn't your fault. Don't you want to know how Snape got past the Whomping Willow?"

Remus opened his eyes at that, frowning slightly. "I know he tried following us last month…"

"It was Sirius," James said, feeling a pang of anger after saying the name aloud. "Sirius told him how to get to the tunnel. How to find you."

Remus' expression was blank. "I don't understand," he said slowly. "Why would he do that? During the full moon… He knows — of course he knows —"

"What seems to have happened," said James, balling his hands into fists, "Is that Sirius figured giving Snape the information he wanted would get him off our back, one way or another. I'm under the impression that he didn't much care about the outcome."

"But I could have killed him," said Remus. "I could have killed _you_. Surely Sirius didn't mean —"

"Regardless of what he meant," said James, "What he did crossed a line. He betrayed your trust. You get to decide the consequences for that."

Remus sank back onto the cot, pulling a thread-worn blanket around himself. He closed his eyes and was silent for so long that James thought he might have fallen asleep. Finally, he stirred and looked at James. There was a hardness behind his brown eyes that James had never seen before.

"Sirius is going to try to beg forgiveness," said Remus. "And I'm not ready to give it. So I want you to keep him away from me. Can you do that?"

James nodded, putting a hand on Remus' shoulder. "Consider it done."

* * *

Lily arrived early to Potions class that afternoon. Setting her bag on the chair beside her, she opened her textbook obediently to the correct page and began to take notes as other students trickled in. She kept her head down as a swirl of shabby, badly patched robes entered her peripheral vision.

"May I?"

Lily looked up. Severus was standing in front of her table, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He gestured towards her bag on the chair next to her.

"That seat's taken, actually," said Lily coolly, looking back down at her book.

Severus blinked. "No, it's not. We're assigned partners, Lily."

She raised her eyebrows. "And since when has that mattered to you? You've seemed perfectly happy to share a cauldron with Mulciber for the past few weeks."

"I — I told you, he made me —"

"Sure he did," said Lily flatly. "That's your relationship with Mulciber all over, isn't it? He's always forcing you to do things you don't want to do. Always bullying you, isn't he?"

Severus looked at her, his heavy brow furrowed. "What are you trying to insinuate?"

"Why don't you read between the lines and figure it out?"

"How can I figure it out when you're being deliberately obtuse —"

"Saved me a seat, did you, Evans?" asked Sirius Black. He slid into the chair beside Lily, accidentally knocking her bag to the floor. "Oops — my mistake..." Leaning over, he picked up her bag and tossed it carelessly onto the table in front of them.

Severus stared at Sirius, his mouth opening and shutting several times before he found words to speak. "You're — you're working with _him_?"

"No, I'm not," said Lily, turning to face Sirius. "That seat's for Parvana. Get out."

Sirius made a show of examining his nails. "Parvana's working with James today, actually."

It was Lily's turn to gape at Sirius. "Why?"

"Because I paid her ten Galleons to partner with him," said Sirius, shrugging. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

"Lily doesn't want to sit with you," said Severus immediately.

Lily bristled. " _Don't_ put words in my mouth, Sev."

"But you… but he —"

Sirius glanced up at Severus, his expression one of intense dislike. "You heard her, _Sev_. No worries, though — looks like Mulciber'd be happy to have you back as a partner." He jerked his head towards the back of the class, where Mulciber was struggling to set up his cauldron.

Severus looked like he desperately wanted to curse Sirius, but he turned towards Lily with a Herculean effort. "After class," he said. "You tell me what's going on."

"Looking forward to it," said Lily coolly. As soon as Severus had stalked off, she rounded on Sirius. "Did you actually pay Parvana ten Galleons to sit with James?"

"Nah," said Sirius, pulling a pair of delicate silver scales out of his bag. "I paid her twenty."

"But why —"

"I was feeling like a change of pace," said Sirius, squinting at instructions on the board. "Now, to business. Would you rather extract the Billywing venom or gut the Flobberworms?"

Lily eyed him suspiciously before glancing towards the back of the classroom. Sure enough, James was sitting with Parvana, who appeared to be giggling at something he had said. James noticed Lily watching and blew her a little kiss.

Lily turned back around, sighing heavily. "I'll gut the Flobberworms."

Working with Sirius turned out to be more pleasant than she had originally anticipated. For all of his lighthearted banter, Sirius was sharp, and at one point he even stopped her from adding shaved Gurdyroot to the cauldron three steps too early. Their Calming Draught may not have turned out the exact shade of periwinkle Lily knew she could achieve with Severus, but she took solace in the fact that Severus and Mulciber's potion looked like something they'd gathered from the bottom of the Black Lake.

Slughorn had barely dismissed them before Sirius had grabbed his bag and hopped out of his seat. He planted a loud, smacking kiss on Lily's cheek before speeding out of the dungeon.

Lily touched her face, grimacing. Mercurial didn't even begin to describe Sirius Black. She noticed Severus staring at her, mouth open, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I can't believe he _kissed_ you!" said Severus, following her out of the classroom. "The nerve of that arrogant, presumptuous —"

"Oh, spare me," snapped Lily as they entered the courtyard. The sun was warm on her shoulders, but she felt as if the air had gone several degrees colder. "Don't pretend like you care about me more than he does."

Severus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Lily… how can you… In case you've forgotten, _you_ were the one who didn't want to sit with _me_!"

"And have you figured out the reason why yet?"

"No, I have no idea! I thought we were supposed to be friends. Best friends?"

"We _are_ , Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with! I'm sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! _Mulciber_! What d'you see in him, Sev, he's creepy!"

"Well, obviously I wouldn't have sat with him if you had let me be your partner. You know you were my first choice."

"As if you haven't been spending every spare minute with Mulciber anyway," said Lily. "And I don't believe for a second that he's bullying you. I think you _want_ to be mates with him. D'you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?"

Severus paled. "That — that was nothing. It was a laugh, that's all –"

"I was _there_ , Sev. It was Dark Magic, and if you think that's funny –"

"What about the stuff Potter and Black get up to?" blurted Severus.

Lily blinked. "What — we're talking about Mulciber! What's Potter got to do with anything?"

"They sneak out at night, you know they do, they had that party… flagrantly breaking the rules... and that's not to mention Lupin! I told you, he's a —" Severus broke off, breathing hard. "You know there's something weird about him. He leaves the grounds —"

"He's ill," said Lily. "We've been through this, they say he's ill – "

"Every month at the full moon? Too ill for the hospital wing?"

They'd stopped walking in the middle of the courtyard, other students streaming around them. Lily crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly. "I know your theory, and I think it's bunk."

"It is _not_ —" Severus stopped himself, nostrils flaring.

"Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they're doing at night?"

"I'm just trying to show you they're not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are."

"Just because Sirius kissed me doesn't mean I think they're wonderful," said Lily, but she felt heat spreading up her neck.

"You prefer them to Mulciber and Avery, though, don't you?"

"Of course I do! Potter and his mates don't use Dark Magic!" Lily glanced around the courtyard to make sure nobody else was listening before dropping her voice. "And you're being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow, and James Potter saved you from whatever's down there —"

Severus pulled away from her, his mouth contorting with disgust. "Saved? _Saved_? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends' too! You're not going to — I won't let you —"

"Let me? _Let me_?"

Severus held up his hands. "Look, I didn't mean… I just don't want to see you made a fool of — He fancies you, James Potter fancies you! And he's not… everyone thinks… big Quidditch hero —"

Lily raised her eyebrows. "I know Potter fancies me. I don't need you to tell me that. And I know he's an arrogant toerag. But Mulciber's and Avery's idea of humour is just evil. _Evil_ , Sev. I don't understand how you can be friends with them."

Severus seemed to relax a bit upon hearing her condemnation of James. "Mulciber and Avery are alright when you get to know them —"

Lily felt as if she'd just swallowed a rock. "I can't believe you're actually defending them."

"I'm not! I'm just saying —"

"That they're not that bad?" Lily's eyes were blazing with fury. "Mulciber set an _undead kitten_ on Mary because her cat is missing. What part of that scenario do you find _not that bad_?"

"Lily, that's not what I —"

"Don't lie," she snapped. "You knew about it. You said it was a _laugh_." She paused as a thought occurred to her, her green eyes narrowing. "I bet you know what happened to Fletcher, too, don't you?"

Severus looked at Lily imploringly, but she didn't back down. "Well?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Did Mulciber kill Mary's cat, Sev?"

The look on his face was all the confirmation she needed.

"Was that a laugh, too?"

"Lily," said Severus pleadingly. "Come on. I didn't know what to do. I'm in over my head."

Lily regarded Severus critically, taking in his greasy black hair, his flushed, pale skin, and his knobby limbs. He looked just like the Severus she had grown up with. Even so, she couldn't help but feel that the scrawny boy she'd befriended as a child was gone, and in his place was a stranger.

"You know the most disappointing thing about all this?" she said. "You don't even say you're sorry. You just make excuses."

By the time Severus opened his mouth to respond, she had already walked away.

* * *

After eating their traditional post-full moon dinner in the kitchen, James and Peter accompanied Remus back up to Gryffindor tower. To James' great relief, their dormitory was empty; Sirius had clearly gotten the message that he was not welcome.

"Alright, Moony?" asked James, catching Remus staring at Sirius' empty bed.

"Never better," Remus replied, flashing a thin-lipped smile at James and pulling his robes gingerly over his head.

"Did you tell him to bugger off, then, James?" asked Peter.

James shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Haven't seen him, honestly. I think he knows he's not wanted."

Remus raised his eyebrows at that before crawling into his bed and drawing the curtains, shielding himself from view. No more noise came from Remus' bed, but as James laid awake that night, he had a suspicion that Remus was also having trouble sleeping.

The next morning, James rose early for Quidditch practice. Slytherin had lost badly to Hufflepuff, which meant that Gryffindor had a chance at winning the Cup, so long as they could outfly Ravenclaw, whose team was speedy and hard-hitting. He'd increased the frequency of Gryffindor's Quidditch practices as a result, figuring the only way to beat Ravenclaw was to become even faster and more aggressive than they were.

As he pulled on his Quidditch uniform, he couldn't help but cast a glance at Sirius' side of the room. The robes which had lain haphazardly across Sirius' trunk were missing, as were the textbooks on his nightstand. Apparently, Sirius had visited in the middle of the night to grab some essentials.

James padded down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, pausing at the notice board. An announcement about career counselling had appeared there overnight. James scanned the list of appointment times beneath the notice; apparently, he was supposed to meet with Professor McGonagall the Monday after the Easter holidays to discuss career paths.

"Reckon we've got a chance against Ravenclaw?" rasped a voice. James startled a little and turned to see Sirius sitting up from the sofa in front of the fireplace, shrugging off a thick red blanket.

"Sirius," said James wearily. "I'm not about to talk Quidditch with you."

"Why not?" asked Sirius, a note of defiance in his voice. "Remus isn't around, is he?"

"It's more than that," said James. He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up in all directions. "I need a bit of space from you, too, mate, alright?"

Sirius' expression darkened. "So you expect me to mope around by myself, then."

"I don't much care what you do, mate," said James. "If you want to mope, that's your choice. Just don't do it around us."

" _Us_ ," spat Sirius. "How quickly the circle closes."

Anger flared in James' chest, and he took a step forward. "You nearly had someone killed," he said in a low voice. "You nearly had _me_ killed. I think spending some time alone is the _least_ of all the things you deserve to have happen to you."

Sirius blinked. "Alright, _mate_. Point taken."

"Great," said James. They looked at each other for a moment.

Sirius broke the silence first. "How long —"

"Merlin's arse, Sirius," said James. "I'm not doing this with you." He shouldered his broom and made for the portrait hole, half-expecting Sirius to argue the point, but the common room behind him was silent.

In Herbology that afternoon, James Vanished the fourth chair at the table where he and his friends usually sat, forcing Sirius to work with a group of twitchy Hufflepuffs who seemed to be unravelling now that O.W.L.s were less than two months away.

"Got something fun planned for today," Professor Sprout said, rubbing at her forehead and leaving a smudge of dirt there. She gestured at the buckets of sticks that sat on the tables. "Who here has heard of xylomancy?"

A few students raised their hands, Peter included. "Xylomancy is the art of predicting the future from the arrangement of twigs," he said.

Professor Sprout pursed her lips and nodded approvingly. "Very good, Pettigrew. Two points to Gryffindor. While most wizards consider xylomancy to be a frivolous pursuit, using scrapings from wand wood trees can improve the accuracy of your readings. I thought it would be a fun Friday activity, as I know your O.W.L.s are looming. If you consult page fifty-three of the textbooks on your tables, you will find instructions on basic xylomancy readings."

James kicked Peter under the table. "Since when do you volunteer in class?"

Peter gave James a smug look. "You lot always take the mickey because I'm in Divination, but the joke's on you now. I'm going to blow your readings out of the water."

"What a waste of a class," moaned Remus, grabbing a handful of sticks out of the bucket. "Guarantee you this won't be on our Herbology O.W.L."

"I'm sure my twigs will say I'm going to be wildly successful," said James, spreading out the sticks on the table in front of him. "This one looks like it's forming a seven — is that the number of O.W.L.s I'm going to get?"

Peter snorted. "Not likely. Divination is more concerned with the detection and forewarning of tragedy. I've yet to hear a single positive prediction in Vablatsky's class."

"Yeah, but this is _twig magic_ ," said James. "Hard to find anything threatening in a bunch of old twigs."

"Peter might have a point," said Remus, poring over his book. "Looks like there're all sorts of ways for a pair of sticks to spell death and destruction. This arrangement means 'trials ahead' though, that's not too bad —"

"Nah, that's even worse," said Peter, shaking his head. "It's too vague. You want to know _exactly_ what sort of misfortune is going to befall you, so you can prepare for it."

"Oh, I think I've got it, then," said Remus. "These twigs are saying, 'you're going to graduate from Hogwarts just in time for the entire Wizarding World to be swept up in a massive blood war, good luck with the job market.'"

James laughed, and Peter nodded encouragingly. "See, doesn't it feel better to know what you're facing?"

"I've never felt so comforted," said Remus dryly.

"You don't actually think there's going to be a war?" said a voice at the table next to them. Mary MacDonald was looking at them curiously, one of her xylomancy twigs tucked into her ponytail.

Next to her, Marlene yawned. "Of course there will be. Mulciber set an undead kitten on you because you're a Muggleborn, and we're at idyllic _Hogwarts_. Imagine how much worse it's going to be in the real world."

"Wait, Mulciber did _what_?" exclaimed James.

Lily looked up from her twigs at the sound of Mulciber's name. "It's true. We barely got to Mary in time."

"He also killed Fletcher, so we're not real chuffed with him at the moment," said Marlene.

"Not Fletcher," said Remus, looking horrified. "Are you serious?"

Mary's face reddened. She nodded and looked down at her sticks, blinking back tears.

"That's sick," said Peter. "He was a really clever cat, too."

"He was part-Kneazle, for sure," agreed Marlene, wrapping her arms around Mary.

"Where did Mulciber get an _undead kitten_ , though?" asked James, still stuck on Marlene's previous comment.

Marlene rolled her eyes at him. "You know that gang he goes round with all want to be Death Eaters. They probably thought it'd be a laugh."

"Who wants to bet they tell the examiners that during our O.W.L.s, too?" asked Peter, dropping his voice to imitate Mulciber's slow drawl. "'Yes, sir, I've been up all night studying, What's-His-Name won't accept anything less than an E in Charms…'"

Mary cracked a smile at that, but James didn't laugh. Lily wasn't smiling either; she had snapped one of her twigs to bits, brow furrowed.

After class, Lily caught James by the arm. "We need to talk," she said, glancing at Remus and Peter. "Just us, if you don't mind."

"Finally decided to go out with me, Evans?" asked James, but he waved at his friends. "You lot go on; I'll catch you up."

As soon as they were alone, Lily dragged him behind the greenhouse. "You _can't_ go getting revenge on Mulciber," she told him firmly.

James raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because it's just going to escalate until someone gets hurt," she said. "The same way it's escalated with Severus."

"Some people deserve to get what's coming to them, though," James said. "I mean, Merlin's sake, Evans, a dead kitten…"

There was a knowing look on Lily's face. "Did Severus deserve what was coming to _him_?"

James realized at once that he'd fallen into a trap. "That — I mean, yeah, but…"

"But you saved him," she said. "And that creates a good opportunity to let things cool off between you two for a bit. But if you jump right into making Mulciber your new target, or rival, or whatever…"

She was right, and James knew it, but he didn't want to cede the point. "If you're suggesting I just sit back and do nothing —"

"Don't put words into my mouth," said Lily coolly. "I'm _suggesting_ that you and your mates use those brains of yours for something good for once. Find a way to get back at the blood purists that doesn't involve hexing them between classes. Show the school that the bad eggs are the minority here. Do something, I don't know, _uplifting_."

James considered her words for a moment. "Would you go out with me if I did?"

He barely managed to dodge her kick. "I'm kidding!" he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "But just to clarify, you're saying you would be super impressed with me if I used my powers of troublemaking for good."

"You're impossible," said Lily. " _Don't_ go doing anything on your own. You've got no common sense, you'll ruin it. Get Remus' approval first, he's sensible."

James grinned widely at that. "Ah, Evans, you have a lot to learn. Remus is even wilder than I am." And before she could respond, he began to stroll, whistling, towards the castle.


	9. The Electrical Storm

The following week marked the beginning of the Easter holidays, and Sirius Black vanished from Hogwarts.

James knew Sirius' absence could mean only one thing — he had gone home for the holidays. The fact that Sirius would willingly subject himself to his awful family just to appease Remus settled like a weight in James' stomach, but he didn't dare broach the subject with Remus, who seemed to neither notice nor care that Sirius had left the castle.

James, on the other hand, felt Sirius' disappearance keenly; the castle was eerily quiet without him around. The previous year, he and Sirius had celebrated Easter by using an Engorgement Charm to inflate a bunny until it was the size of a large horse before setting it loose on Professor Sprout's vegetable patch. The rabbit had proceeded to eat every radish in the garden before hopping into the Forbidden Forest, its huge paws creating wide craters in the mud.

This year, in contrast, the holidays consisted mostly of James following Remus and Peter around as they revised for their O.W.L.s. James thought he'd never been quite so familiar with the library, save for the brief stint during second year where they had spent weeks sneaking into the Restricted Section after curfew to find books on Animagi.

"Go on, quiz me then, if you're so bored," Remus said irritably one day, sliding his Potions book across the table. James looked up, startled; while Remus and Peter had been studying, he had taken it upon himself to Transfigure Remus' wizarding chess pieces into miniature Quidditch players, who were now speeding back and forth across the table, engaged in a rowdy match.

"Who said I was bored? White's got some amazingly aggressive Chasers, look —"

Peter flinched as a tiny Quaffle bounced off of his forehead, landing in his inkwell. "It _is_ a little distracting, mate."

"Well, seeing as you lot don't want to play Quidditch with me —"

"I don't know if you've noticed," said Remus, "but not all of us can pass our O.W.L.s by harnessing the power of positive thinking. Some of us actually have to study."

"I have to study, too," said James, crossing his arms. "By playing Quidditch. Since I'm going to be a professional _Quidditch player_."

"Well, you've already got an O in being an annoying git," said Peter, "so that's one subject taken care of, at least."

James flicked his wand and one of the miniature Bludgers went zooming up Peter's nose, causing him to snort and cough so loudly that Madam Pince banned them from the library for the rest of the afternoon.

On the last day of Easter holidays, James spotted Sirius in the Gryffindor common room, chatting with Marlene McKinnon. As James climbed through the portrait hole, Sirius' grey eyes slid towards him. Sirius arched one eyebrow, asking a silent question — _ready yet?_

James shook his head in response, and Sirius' face fell. Turning, James took the stairs to the boy's dormitory two at a time, the knot in his stomach like a lead weight.

The next day, James and Peter were both scheduled for career counselling with Professor McGonagall in the early afternoon, so they decided to skive off the entirety of Care of Magical Creatures in favour of taking an extended lunch with Remus by the lake.

"What'd you talk about with Minnie?" James asked, biting into a sandwich.

Remus shrugged. "Nothing too exciting. She wanted to know what my post-Hogwarts goals are. Didn't seem very impressed with my level of ambition."

James and Peter exchanged glances. "Did you do that thing where you insist you won't be able to hold a job after graduation?" Peter asked. "Because you know we think that's —"

"It's _not_ rubbish," said Remus, tearing his sandwich into bits. "It's the truth. When I have to miss days on the job… when people figure out the pattern…"

"You just need something where you can set your own schedule," said James. "Be a travelling salesman or something. Did Minnie have any ideas?"

"She had one," said Remus darkly. "And it was terrible. She offered me a position at Hogwarts."

James and Peter stared at Remus, whose expression indicated that death would be preferable to working at Hogwarts.

Peter recovered first. "But that's not terrible at all! Seems quite reasonable to me, actually."

"Yeah," said James, nodding. "Since we know Dumbledore's fine about your furry little problem, and you've already got the Shrieking Shack set up. Makes a lot of sense that you'd work here after graduating."

"You don't get it," said Remus. He looked down at his sandwich, seeming surprised that it was shredded into pieces, and began to pull tufts of grass up from the ground. "I'd be around _children_. If something happened — like what happened with Snape…"

"That was a fluke," growled James. "You've gone five years without an issue, the Snape thing only happened because Sirius interfered. You're not normally a danger, Moony."

Remus snorted. "Right, I'm not a danger, except for once a month when I turn into a creature whose entire purpose is to consume human flesh. It's not _safe_ for me to be here, you can't convince me that it is, not after —"

"I mean, Minerva's not offering you the job right this second," interrupted Peter. "You still have a couple of years to think about it."

"I'm not going to change my mind," said Remus. "I already told her so."

"Moony, I hate to say it, but Pete's right," said James. "You don't have to decide now. Just let the idea percolate a bit, and come back to it in a few years, after our N.E.W.T.s." He checked his watch. "We need to get going if we're gonna make it on time. Ready, Pete?"

After they reached the first floor, Peter's appointment lasted barely ten minutes. He emerged from McGonagall's office, giving James the thumbs-up.

"Told her I'm gonna be a House-Elf Relocation Officer," he said. "Like my mum. Minerva seemed to think I could do better, but…" He shrugged. "They only want 2 O.W.L.s, so I figure it's a safe bet."

"Way to underachieve, Pete," said James, high-fiving him.

Peter grinned. "Your turn to let her down next."

James strolled into the office, hands in his pockets, and plunked down into the chair in front of Professor McGonagall's desk. "You called, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall inclined her head a little. "Potter. As I'm sure you're aware, the purpose of this meeting is to provide guidance before your O.W.L.s, so that you may have some idea of the career path you wish to follow."

"Easy," said James at once. "I'm going to be a professional Quidditch player."

Professor McGonagall's lips tightened into a tiny semblance of a smile. "I thought you might say something like that. Have you ever considered any… alternative options?"

"Sure," said James, ticking them off his fingers. "Quidditch commentator… Quidditch analyst… Quidditch team manager, though I don't think I have the organizational skills for that one…"

"I meant something outside the realm of Quidditch," said Professor McGonagall, who looked like she was beginning to get a headache.

James looked at her blankly. "Why would I want to do anything other than Quidditch?"

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall, massaging one of her temples, "your father consults with the Ministry. Surely you know what the political climate is like right now?"

"Er," said James, "Yeah, sort of. I mean, everyone's getting worked up about that pure-blood rubbish, and there's a mysterious Dark wizard who's goading people on, right?"

"That is the gist of it," said Professor McGonagall, seeming relieved that James wasn't completely oblivious to the world around him. "Our Headmaster believes that the current attacks, motivated by blood status, will devolve into a full-fledged war. With this in mind, it is important for talented individuals — people like you — to position themselves appropriately. You excel at Transfiguration; you would have no trouble landing a job as an Unspeakable at the Ministry, creating weapons to fight, if you so choose."

"I can fight by playing Quidditch," said James. At the look on McGonagall's face, he added, "I mean, keeping people entertained is important, too, right? Especially if there's going to be a war like you said."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a second and took a breath before responding. "Potter, you know that I am as much a fan of Quidditch as you are. But Quidditch will always remain a mere sport. I am speaking of something bigger."

James' mouth fell open. He hadn't thought Professor McGonagall believed in anything bigger than Quidditch. It was why they got along so well.

"If you insist on pursuing a career in Quidditch, then I cannot stop you," continued Professor McGonagall. "But I must reiterate; this is a time to _act._ To put the skills you take for granted to good use."

"You sound like Lily Evans," said James. "She told me to use my troublemaking powers for the greater good."

The corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched. "Miss Evans is wise beyond her years."

After James left Professor McGonagall's office, promising her he'd at least consider a career beyond Quidditch, he made his way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, mind swirling. Professor McGonagall had known about his Quidditch ambitions since his first year at Hogwarts, and she had loved him for it. She'd encouraged him — she was the one who had made him Captain when it was only his fifth year! Hearing her say that she expected him to do something bigger with his life made no sense. And yet…

"Good news, lads," James said, plopping down beside Remus and Peter. "We've been given a job to do."

* * *

On Saturday morning, Lily was eating breakfast with Marlene and Mary when a huge flock of owls swooped into the Great Hall, clutching multicoloured pamphlets in their talons and beaks. Students began to murmur and occasionally shriek as the owls soared low over the tables, clipping the students with their wings. A large barn owl glided over the heads of the Gryffindors before releasing its many papers from its talons, scattering them across the table.

"What the —" began Marlene, picking up a leaflet that had fallen into her pumpkin juice. It was dazzling, flashing all different colours of the rainbow. On its front, it read in bubble letters:

 **SO YOU WANT TO BE A DEATH EATER?**

Mary flipped open the nearest pamphlet, face pale, but after a moment of reading, she began to giggle.

"What's so funny?" demanded Lily.

"Oh, this is gold," said Marlene, tossing her pamphlet to Lily, who opened it.

 _Are you tired of studying Charms when you could be studying Curses?_

 _Do you not need an O in Divs for your Inner Eye to see that you're better than everybody else?_

 _Consider giving the Wizarding World the two-fingered salute and joining the Death Eaters!_

 _All you need is the soul of a Dementor, a superiority complex, and a passing score on your E.V.I.L.s (Exacting Villainous IQ Levels)! Practising Dark Magic was never so easy!_

 _The E.V.I.L.s will be administered at 4pm in Dungeon One. No revising required — just bring yourself, your quill, and a willingness to squash the peons who interfere with your rise to power!_

 _The test will be followed by a meet-and-greet with You-Know-Who himself!_

"This can't be real," said Lily, flipping the leaflet over to see if anything was hidden on the other side.

"'Course it's not," said Marlene. "But you can bet every Galleon you own I'm gonna be taking my E.V.I.L.s this afternoon."

"Considering a career change, then, McKinnon?" called James from down the table, looking very pleased with himself. Beside him, Remus and Peter nodded their approval.

"Thinking about it," said Marlene. "Whoever made this pamphlet was _very_ convincing."

"I can't wait to meet What's-His-Name," said Mary, her eyes wide. "I have so many questions for him."

"Now, now, Mary," said Remus, reaching across the table to pat her hand. "I'm sure Whatever-He's-Called will be happy to answer you the best he can."

"They say he's extremely accommodating," agreed Peter. "I've only heard good things."

On impulse, Lily glanced at the Slytherin table. Severus was holding a pamphlet, and his dark eyes looked murderous. She wanted to cross the Great Hall, tell him to lighten up, that it was just a joke. _But what if it's not?_ asked a quiet voice in her head. _Not to him, at least._

Dungeon One contained a central podium surrounded by many rows of tiered seats, which were just barely enough to accommodate all of the students who had crammed into the room to take their E.V.I.L.s. Three hooded figures wearing badges bearing the words _DEATH EATER_ directed students to available seats and passed out quills to those who didn't have them. Lily, Marlene and Mary were ushered to seats near the front, close to the podium.

Once most of the students had been seated, one of the hooded figures jumped onto the desk at the centre of the podium, nearly unbalancing a stack of papers as he did so.

"Witches and warlocks, aspiring agents of barbarity, welcome to your E.V.I.L.s examination!" cried the Death Eater, sounding suspiciously like James Potter. "Those who pass will be added to our ranks. Not to worry, though; if you don't prove evil enough for the Death Eaters, we're sure we can find you a life of petty crime that will fill your rotten little heart with joy and purpose!"

A second Death Eater joined the first on the podium.

"The test will be graded as follows," said the Death Eater, who seemed to have Remus' voice. He waved his wand, and writing appeared on the blackboard behind him.

 **EXACTING VILLAINOUS IQ LEVELS**

 _ **Pass Grades**_

 _Obscene (O)_

 _Extremely Excessive (E)_

 _Awful (A)_

 _ **Fail Grades**_

 _Priggish (P)_

 _Dull (D)_

 _Tryhard (T)_

"You have half an hour to complete the test," said the first Death Eater from where he stood on top of the desk. "When you receive your exam, you may begin!"

A third, shorter Death Eater scrambled onto the podium and set a large hourglass atop the desk, at the feet of the first Death Eater. As the sand began to fall from the hourglass, the Death Eaters flourished their wands in unison, sending copies of the test swirling about the room.

Lily snatched a test out of the air, turning it over and scratching her name at the top. The first question read:

 _You, a follower of the Dark Lord, are tasked with wiping out a segment of the population. Do you first target a) people who make weird noises when eating, b) people who like clowns, or c) the clowns themselves? Discuss._

Lily smiled and began to compose her response. Beside her, Marlene was grinning from ear to ear as she filled out her exam.

By the time Lily finished the test, there were only a few grains of sand left in the hourglass, and the room was filling with murmurs as students compared answers.

"And that's it, time's up!" announced the first Death Eater from the front of the classroom. He waved his wand to collect the exams, which came zooming towards him, forming a haphazard pile atop the desk.

"An impartial Dark artefact will grade your exams," said the second Death Eater, pulling a long, dark quill from beneath his robes. "This quill has been cursed to recognize villainous potential and give feedback accordingly."

"While you are waiting for your E.V.I.L.s to be graded, we suggest you have a chat with our fearless leader," continued the first Death Eater. "I am proud to present to you our malevolent master, the Darkest of wizards himself, the one, the only… LORD WHAT'S-HIS-NAME!"

The third, shortest Death Eater emerged from a door at the back of the classroom, carrying something large and rectangular that was covered in cloth. He set the rectangular object carefully atop the desk before pulling off the cloth, revealing what was underneath.

It was a portrait of a wizard, but it was the most poorly-drawn portrait Lily had ever seen. It almost looked like modern art, but she was sure that wasn't the intention. The wizard's eyes were different sizes and pointed in different directions, while his mouth was merely a squiggle. The wizard attempted to twirl his wand, which was little more than a line, but his fingers were misshapen and lumpy, like sausages, and his wand fell to the bottom of the painting. Titters spread through the classroom as students surged forward to get a better look, the three Death Eaters doing their best to direct the queue.

"Merlin above," said Marlene, pushing past a group of Hufflepuffs in an attempt to get closer to the front. Beside her, Mary was covering her mouth in a fruitless attempt to stop giggling. "James and his mates really are rubbish at painting, aren't they?"

"Hello, Lord Whatever-Your-Name-Is," said Sally Dearborn, a sixth year Gryffindor who was first to reach the portrait. "This is quite the honour. I've heard rumours about your hideous appearance, but I never expected you to look quite so…"

"Intimidating?" asked Lord What's-His-Name, whose voice was high and a bit babyish. He did a little twirl inside the painting and stumbled a bit due to the fact that his legs were uneven.

"Yeah, that's the word I was looking for," said Sally.

As Lily, Mary, and Marlene reached the painting, the first Death Eater waved them over, lowering his hood.

"Terrifying, isn't he?" asked James, jerking a thumb towards the portrait. "Never underestimate Remus' sheer lack of artistic talent."

"It's impressively bad," agreed Marlene. The second Death Eater turned at her words, and though Lily couldn't see under his hood, she was pretty sure he was beaming.

"Where's Sirius?" asked Mary, craning her head and looking around at the crowd. "Thought there'd be a fourth Death Eater here today…"

"Detention," said James at once. "Poor bloke's missing out on all the fun. Thoughts, Evans?"

"Promise you'll never attempt a portrait of me," said Lily, staring at Lord What's-His-Name, whose lopsided eyes bulged out at her.

"I am the scourge of Britain!" squeaked the painting. "Fear my power!" He wiggled his noodle-like limbs at her, which was not remotely threatening.

"Wanna hear the _pièce de résistance_?" said James, gesturing her to come closer. "When we're done, we're planning on hanging him in Dumbledore's office."

It took another thirty minutes for the black quill to finish grading the stack of exams, by which time most students had been able to interact with the painting to their heart's content. To Lily's amusement, Lord What's-His-Name refused to make any slurs against Muggle-borns, opting instead to rant about clowns using epithets that grew steadily more absurd.

"Your results, then, Evans," said James, putting his hood back on. Lily took her exam from him, unrolling it carefully. The word _Tryhard_ was scrawled in red across the top of the parchment, followed by several sentences in varied handwriting, despite having come from the same enchanted quill.

 _Mr JFP, Death Eater, would like to offer his condolences to Miss Evans on failing her E.V.I.L.s. He would also like the record to show that he believes she deserves a perfect mark on anything she attempts, and it was only the interference of his so-called colleagues that prevented a passing score._

 _Mr RJL, Death Eater, is sure Miss Evans will agree that having red hair and being pretty is not good enough evidence that one deserves a perfect mark on an exam._

 _Mr PPP, Death Eater, would like to add that Miss Evans shouldn't take her failure personally, as her friend Mary MacDonald scored even more poorly than she did._

"Ha!" said Marlene, scanning her exam. "I got an O! Wizarding Britain better watch out!"

"Congratulations on becoming a Death Eater," said Remus from beneath his Death Eater hood. He handed her a shining, rainbow badge, which read _I got an O on my E.V.I.L.s!_

"Better luck next time, Evans," said James, holding out a different badge, which flashed with the words _I failed my E.V.I.L.s!_

"I deserved better than a T and you know it," said Lily, but she took the badge anyway. "I'm incredibly sneaky! I should have passed!"

"You've never had more than three detentions in your life, plus you're a prefect," said Remus. "That doesn't scream Dark wizard to me. Marlene, on the other hand…"

Marlene preened as she affixed her badge to her robes. "How'd you get that quill to write with your personalities, anyway? I'm assuming you modified an Auto-Answer Quill, but beyond that…"

"We told you," said Peter innocently. "It's a Dark artefact. Probably created by You-Know-Who himself."

As students began to file out, James pulled Lily aside before she could leave the classroom. "So what did you think? Was that a morale-booster or what?"

Lily raised her eyebrows. "My failing mark aside, it wasn't a bad effort. I do have one suggestion, though."

James crossed his arms and tilted his chin at her. "Go on, then, Miss I-Got-A-T. Impress me."

"You said you were going to put Lord What's-His-Name in Dumbledore's office, but I can think of a better place," she said. "The Slytherin common room, for instance."

James gaped at her. "You're right," he said once he'd recovered the power of speech. "You _did_ deserve an O. That's the most devious thing I've heard all day."

"I try," said Lily, winking at him. James blinked in surprise, a goofy smile spreading across his face, and she took the opportunity to skip out of the classroom, glad he couldn't see her grin.

* * *

Bella found Severus in Dungeon Thirteen, practising his new spell on a jar of pickled toads. "Brutal," she said lightly, watching him point his wand at yet another hapless toad, splitting its rubbery flesh with the ease of cutting through butter.

"I should hope so," said Severus through gritted teeth as he Vanished the remains of the toad. He plucked another out of the jar and set it in front of him.

"Does this have anything to do with the incident at the Whomping Willow?" she asked.

"Perhaps," said Severus, slashing his wand through the air until the toad was no longer recognizable.

Bella picked up the toad by what had previously been one of its legs, making a face as she dangled it in the air in front of her. "Should I take this to mean that you have not managed to capture a werewolf?"

"I'm going in a different direction," said Severus, holding out his hand. Bella dropped the toad into it. "Werewolves are resistant to the more common forms of battle magic. Hence this spell."

Bella nodded approvingly. "You're turning your focus to defensive magic."

"Or offensive," said Severus. "In either case, for use against those you do not mind killing."

"For enemies," said Bella softly.

Severus nodded. "It's not perfect yet. When I get it right, the spell will be like a hot knife. It will cut through most forms of flesh. Werewolves, troll skin, giant hide…"

"In other words," said Bella, "It will be an excellent tool for recruiting those who might need persuasion."

Severus pulled another toad out of the jar. "Do you…" He paused, turning over the toad in his hands. "Do you think this spell will be sufficient? Or should I look elsewhere for my pledge?"

Bella smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "You have never disappointed me yet, Sev. I'm sure Lucius — and the Dark Lord — will be very pleased."

Severus exhaled a little, placing the toad on the table in front of him and readying his wand. Bella watched him, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, she cocked her head to the side and looked shrewdly at Severus.

"Would you like to learn something new?"

"That depends," said Severus, rending the toad's skin with a sickening squelch. "I find some of the things we have learned… distasteful. The Inferi, for instance."

"This won't be like that at all," Bella assured him, her eyes wide. "This I think you'll like. It's proper magic, old magic. It will give you an edge in combat and when dealing with others."

Severus' lip turned up at the corner. "I could use some help in dealing with others."

"I'll speak to Lucius," said Bella. "I'll have to ask his permission. But I think he'll agree that you're a good candidate. What do you say?"

Severus Vanished the unfortunate toad. "I'm in."

Later that week, Bella found Severus in the fifth-floor corridor and dragged him behind a statue of Boris the Bewildered. "Lucius said yes," she told him, her eyes shining. "He gave permission. Are you free this evening, after dinner?"

Severus shrugged. "We — Avery, Mulciber, and I — have plans to work on a Defense essay in the library…"

"Blow them off," said Bella, waving her hand. "Tell them you're with me, they'll understand. I'll meet you in Dungeon Thirteen, alright?"

Severus nodded, and Bella pulled him into a brief hug. "I'm so excited," she whispered into his ear. "You're going to love this."

Before he could respond, she darted out from behind the statue, joining the throng of students making their way to class.

When he arrived at Dungeon Thirteen that evening, Bella was perched in one of the white armchairs, wrapped in a red silk robe embroidered with cherry blossoms and sipping a teacup.

"Tea?" she asked, indicating the china set on the pouffe beside her. Severus nodded, settling into an armchair and pouring himself a cup. "Told you this would be more civilized than making Inferi," said Bella, winking at him.

"So far, at least," said Severus dryly.

"To business, then," said Bella, draining the last of her tea. "Have you heard of a branch of magic called Occlumency?"

Severus shook his head and she smiled, flashing her white, square teeth at him. "I didn't think so. It's old, obscure, and difficult to master. Right up your alley, if you ask me."

"What's the point?"

"Occlumency shields your mind from intrusion," explained Bella. "There's a different sort of magic — Legilimency — that grants access to the mind of another. If you've mastered Occlumency, the Legilimens can rifle through your mind but see only what you want him to see, and he'll be none the wiser."

A thought struck Severus. "Is Legilimency how you always know when we're not telling the truth?"

Bella's smile grew wider. "It's not quite as complicated as that. Teenage boys are simply hopeless liars." She barked a laugh.

"So how do I use Occlumency?" asked Severus. "Is there a spell?"

"No," said Bella, drawing her wand. The motion sent the embroidered cherry blossoms on her robes swirling, as if they had been disturbed by wind. "You just have to discipline your mind. To conceal your secrets so completely that they are even hidden from yourself."

She leaned forward and cupped his chin in her hand, her grey eyes boring into his. "Get ready," she said softly. "One, two, three… _Legilimens._ "

At once, Severus' mind was filled with images. He was three and wearing a dirty shirt and a sagging cloth diaper, the only clothes he owned… he was seven, and his father was striking his mother… he was nine and watching a girl with flaming red hair swing through the air, higher, higher…

The sound of shattering china brought Severus out of his reverie. He had dropped his teacup.

"No matter," said Bella calmly, pointing her wand at the shards scattered across the plush white rug. The teacup mended itself and jumped back into his hand. "Let's try again," she said, pouring him more tea.

"Did you…" began Severus. "Were you able to see the same things I did?"

"Yes," said Bella simply. She looked at him plainly, without pity or embarrassment. "There is shame associated with those memories. Shame is a strong emotion; it is easy to pull such memories to the surface of the mind. You must learn to treat your secrets with indifference, as if they belonged to someone else. That is how you hide them."

She leaned forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose once more. "We will try again," she said. " _Legilimens._ "

A boy much bigger than Severus was punching him in the mouth… His father was laughing at him… He felt the shame welling up in him and tried to bury it, to feel indifferent, to feel safe… His mum was creeping into his room in the middle of the night, healing his tooth with her dusty old wand, a finger to her lips… now Lily was the one shushing him as they crouched in the bushes, hiding from Petunia… He was watching McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on Lily's head, stomach sinking as the hat shouted " _Gryffindor"_ … Lily was taking him by the arm outside Slughorn's office, sending thrills up his spine…

Severus blinked and came back to himself. Bella had lowered her wand, brow furrowed.

"I wasn't aware you had such a history with your Mudblood friend," she said quietly. "I thought you two met at Hogwarts. I didn't know you were childhood friends as well."

"It doesn't matter," said Severus quickly. "It's not — it doesn't interfere with…"

"You don't understand," said Bella impatiently. "You _must_ learn to suppress these thoughts. Your family history will surprise nobody who peruses your mind, but your feelings for the Mudblood are a great weakness. If the wrong sort of person found out, someone like Lucius…" She let the sentence dangle ominously.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I am your mentor," said Bella, taking his face in her hand again. "What I learn about you does not leave this room." She raised her wand and focused her eyes on his. "Discipline your mind. Do not let thoughts of the Mudblood tempt you into giving away your secrets. You do not wear your emotions on your sleeve; so it should be with your mind. _Legilimens._ "

This time, Severus tried a different tactic, letting his mind jump from association to association without dwelling on the memories that arose. His father was advancing on him, brandishing his belt like a whip… his father became Lily, striding towards him in the Forbidden Forest, wand out… Lily became James, who became Sirius, pinning him to the infirmary cot, who became his father again, who became Mulciber, the images gathering speed until one was barely distinguishable from another… And the memories began to fade from his view as Bella's eyes came into focus, clearer and clearer until all he saw were her large grey eyes staring at him, close enough he could count her individual lashes.

Severus pulled back, breaking their connection. "Based on what you have just seen," he said, "what would you say my feelings are towards Lily Evans?"

Bella cocked her head, considering the question. A smile began to play about her lips. "I'm not sure," she said. "It's a start."

* * *

As the weather grew warmer, April gave way to May, and Remus showed no signs of forgiving Sirius. Whenever Sirius was in their vicinity, which was increasingly rare, Remus ignored him completely, giving no indication that he was even aware of Sirius' existence. James would occasionally bring up Sirius' name in conversation to see if Remus was softening, but such attempts were fruitless; Remus would merely go conveniently deaf and change the subject to their approaching O.W.L.s.

Sirius, for his part, was becoming harder and harder to locate. He had begun to miss class, and had stopped showing up to History of Magic entirely. Occasionally, James would pass him in the hallway, but no matter how much James tried to make eye contact, to convey his remorse that things had gone this far, Sirius refused to look at him.

It was with this in mind that James sat in History of Magic, doodling in the margins of his parchment and trying not to glance at Sirius' empty seat. It was unusually hot outside, and the heat seemed to seep into the classroom, nearly stifling him. Between the drone of Professor Binns' voice, the oppressive stillness of the air, and Sirius' increasingly conspicuous absence, James was ready to drive his own quill through his head.

There was a loud crack, jolting him out of his reverie. He'd pressed down on his parchment too hard, snapping his quill.

"Tell us how you really feel, mate," said Peter, handing him another.

"What are we even doing here?" muttered James. "This entire class is a waste of my time. Goblin wars, my arse. Sirius had the right idea — " He broke off, looking at Remus guiltily.

Remus smiled slightly, continuing to outline his notes. "I expect things will become rather more interesting before long."

"Oh yeah?" asked James. "How's that?" There was a rumble in the distance, like a far-off train.

"Well," said Remus, "I subscribe to the _Daily Prophet_ , which I believe you're quite fond of mocking me for."

"And rightly so," said Peter. "You're a shame to our troublemaking name with a goody-goody habit like that."

Remus continued as if he hadn't heard. "You may not be aware of this, having never read a paper yourself, but newspapers have an awful lot of different sections. A weather forecast, for instance."

James scoffed. "Who needs a forecast when we've got the Great Hall?"

"That's the thing," said Remus. "As the weather grows warmer, a specific kind of meteorological event tends to occur under certain conditions. And the Daily Prophet has been predicting all week that we are due for one such event this afternoon."

"Fascinating," said James sarcastically. "I can tell your subscription is a Knut well spent —"

A second rumble, rather louder than the first, shook the room, and James came to a realization. "Oh."

"Oh," echoed Peter.

Remus smiled to himself, beginning a new bullet point on his parchment. "Exactly."

"Are we —" began Peter, looking frantically at James.

"Well, we have to, don't we?" said James, sweeping his things into his bag. "Quick, jinx me, and we can get out of here."

"With what?" asked Peter, scrambling in his bag for his wand. "Come on, James, I'm blanking here —"

Remus drew his wand from his sleeve and flicked it at Peter. " _Prandium emitus_."

Immediately, Peter began to retch, clutching his stomach as the partially-digested contents of his lunch spilt across his desk.

James took the opportunity to leap to his feet. "Erm, excuse me, Professor!" he called. Every head in the class swivelled towards him, and Professor Binns paused his lecture, blinking for a moment before peering down his glasses at James.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but Peter's quite ill," explained James, wrapping an arm around Peter's waist. "Think it's best if I help him down to the infirmary. Right this second. Really can't wait."

"Right... yes, yes, naturally," said Professor Binns, sounding somewhat dazed. "Feel better, Pettigrew..." He looked back down at his notes, squinting. "As I was saying, when Agrock the Atrocious reached the battlefield…"

As soon as James and Peter reached the corridor, they broke into a sprint, Peter still holding his stomach.

"Where are we going?" Peter panted.

"Dormitories," James said. "To get our potions. Then to the second floor, to the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced. The one that leads to the grotto by the lake."

They burst into their dorms, and James brandished his wand at his bedside table. " _Alohomora_!"

" _Not so fast_ ," came an echo of James' own voice from the drawer of the bedside table. " _Password_?"

"Operation: Safari Park," said James, and the drawer sprung open with a bang. Inside, nestled in a black cloth, were the three small vials of potion.

"You put a password on it?" asked Peter incredulously. "I wasn't going to peek…"

"It wasn't just for you," said James. "The potions had to remain undisturbed. Couldn't afford to take chances." He scooped up two of the vials, leaving the one in the middle.

"Shouldn't we…" began Peter, staring at the lone vial remaining in the drawer.

"No point," said James, feeling a pang of remorse as the words left his mouth. "No way Sirius has kept up with the incantations. Besides, we don't even know where he is, and we don't have time to wait."

He handed Peter one of the vials and stuffed the other in his bag. He didn't bother to shut the drawer before running out of the room, Peter at his heels. They tore through the castle, knocking over suits of armour and nearly tumbling down the stairs in their haste to get to the second floor.

James reached the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced first and quickly traced an inappropriate word on the statue's forehead with his wand. As he finished, the base of the statue shifted, revealing a hole in the floor. Down the tunnel they went, the air around them growing damp and warm as they descended. At last, the mouth of the tunnel widened, opening into the grotto.

Remus was standing on a mossy rock where the grotto met the edge of the lake, his head tilted towards the rain. "Beautiful place, this," he said lightly, but his hands were trembling.

"Good spot for it, too," said Peter nervously as a flash of lightning illuminated the damp stone walls of the grotto. "It's got land and water, plus it's open to air… whatever we become, it'll —"

A rumble of thunder drowned out the rest of his words.

"That's enough stalling, I expect," said James, drawing his vial from the pocket of his robes. To his surprise, the crimson liquid inside had turned a deep brown. His pulse accelerated, and he thought he could feel a second heartbeat matching time with his own, each beat stronger and more forceful than the last.

Peter had one hand pressed against his chest while the other clutched his vial, which had turned a sandy beige. He glanced anxiously at James. "Do you feel that?"

"Yeah," said James. His second heartbeat was thumping loudly, becoming more insistent by the second, as if it were about to overtake his human heart.

"Mine's so _fast_ ," said Peter, massaging his chest. "Really not the best feeling…"

"This ought to make it better," said James, clinking Peter's vial against his own. "Cheers, mate."

Peter nodded, face white, and the two boys downed the potion. Immediately, a clap of thunder sounded which seemed to carry with it the rolling, wild cries of animals great and small, and then there was silence.

* * *

A/N: Dun dun dunnn! I've been dying to get to the part where they become Animagi, and it's finally here! Also, this fic has officially reached 50k words :) Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed/commented! Your feedback is always welcome, it truly makes my day. Looking forward to sharing more with you!


	10. Amato Animo Animato Animagus

The first thing James noticed was that he had grown quite tall. The second was that his head was very heavy.

Remus approached him cautiously, eyes wide. "Merlin's — bleeding… James, mate. Bloody _hell_."

James pawed at the ground with one of his hooves — hooves! He had hooves! — and dipped his head, allowing Remus to scratch the fur there. Remus' hand drifted towards his ear, knocking against something hard — horns, maybe? James tilted his head, giving Remus what he hoped was a quizzical look.

Remus' face broke into a grin, and he wrapped his arms around James' long neck. "You're a stag, mate! A bloody stag! Beautiful creature, too." Remus' breath hitched, and James' nostrils flared as he caught the tang of salt drifting through the air.

"Thank you," said Remus, burying his face in James' fur. "Thank you. Thank you."

After a long moment, Remus drew back, wiping his eyes. Reaching up, he grabbed James' antlers to bring the stag's face level with his own.

"I've had three long years to deliberate exactly what sort of humiliating nicknames I would bestow upon you lot when I saw your animal forms," he said, beaming.

James let out a low whinny in protest, but Remus' smile grew wider. "Oh yes. I've come up with names for every animal under the sun. Moony is a bit of an unkind nickname, you know. I figure it's only right to return the favour. What say we call you… Prongs?" A wicked grin spread across Remus' face. "You know. Because you're _horny_."

James snorted loudly and bucked his head, forcing Remus backwards.

"Don't tell me that's not hilarious!" protested Remus. "You're sixteen years old and you've got antlers. You are the _definition_ of horny. It's perfect."

There was a squeaking sound, and a plump rat with sandy fur scurried up Remus' robes and onto his shoulder.

"Pete!" said Remus, grabbing the rat and cradling it in his hands. "Look at you! I think I might prefer you like this, honestly…"

The rat let out an offended chitter and tried to wriggle free of Remus' grasp.

"You're a little less conspicuous than Prongs here, at least," said Remus, placing Peter in the pocket of his robes. "What do you say, Wormtail? Comfortable?"

The shape in Remus' pocket shifted and grew. Remus stumbled backwards as the rat tumbled onto the ground; in the blink of an eye, Peter was sprawled in front of him.

"Wormtail?" asked Peter incredulously, dusting off his knees. "What sort of name is Wormtail?"

"Oh, there's loads more where that came from," said Remus jauntily, mussing Peter's hair. "I wouldn't push my luck if I were you."

"I spent years becoming an Animagus to keep your lonely wolf arse company and this is the thanks I get," scoffed Peter, but he didn't seem too put out. " _Wormtail_. Honestly."

James decided that he'd had quite enough of all this talking. He wanted to move, to stretch his new, powerful muscles. He snorted, startling both Remus and Peter, and then broke into a trot, leaving the grotto in favour of the sandy bank that bent around the Black Lake. He quickened his pace to a canter, and then a full-on gallop, his sides heaving with effort. He could feel the rain soaking the fur on his back as he raced around the lake, his thoughts becoming less human and more wild.

After taking a second, and then a third, lap of the lake, he returned to the grotto, slowing to a canter. As he took deep gulps of air into his lungs, he pictured himself walking on two legs. Before he knew it, he felt himself shrink. His head became lighter — _much_ lighter — and he very nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Have a nice jog?" asked Remus, steadying him. "Never pictured you as much of a runner, myself…"

"You're loving this, aren't you?" said James, still panting.

Remus gave him a wide, lazy smile. "Why, yes. Yes, I am."

"Erm, not to be a spoilsport," said Peter, checking his watch, "but we still have Charms before dinner."

"Bugger Charms," said James grandly. "We can turn into animals on command. Let's go get pissed in the dormitory."

"Here, here," said Peter enthusiastically, and Remus nodded in agreement.

As James led the way through the tunnel to the second floor, he couldn't help but cast a backwards glance at the grotto. He wondered what sort of nicknames Remus had thought up for Sirius. He was probably better off not knowing, he decided, shaking himself a bit and continuing through the tunnel.

"When's the next full moon?" asked Peter as they climbed the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

"Next Thursday," said Remus automatically.

"Brilliant," said James, pushing the door open. "Less than a week to wait, then —"

He froze, and Peter collided with his back. A shaggy black dog the size of a bear was lying on Remus' bed.

"A Grim," said Peter immediately. "Merlin save us, a Grim —"

James' mind began to race as he remembered childhood stories of hounds whose very presence foretold disaster. He'd had a second cousin who'd slipped off her broomstick after seeing a Grim, hadn't he? At the funeral, his relatives had whispered amongst themselves about a big black dog when they thought he wasn't listening.

Remus stepped around James, a look of complete shock on his face. The dog raised its huge head, staring at Remus with mournful gray eyes. It thumped its tail hopefully.

" _Sirius_?"

The dog let out a little whine and thumped its tail harder.

Remus and the dog looked at each other for a moment before Remus darted forward. James reached for his wand, thinking Remus was going to attack the dog; instead, Remus landed roughly on top of it, embracing it and ruffling its fur. The dog barked loudly and began to lick Remus' face.

"You're a Padfoot," said Remus. "A Padfoot!"

"A what?" asked Peter, sitting on his own bed and eyeing the dog warily.

"It's what my dad calls Hellhounds," explained Remus as the dog rolled onto its back. "It's another name for a Grim. You great, hairy omen of death… Gave us quite a fright, didn't you?" And he scratched the dog's stomach vigorously"All's forgiven, then, I suppose?" asked James once he had recovered the power of speech.

Remus paused and glanced at the dog, which looked suddenly guilty. It shifted uncomfortably, and then Sirius was sitting next to Remus, their shoulders touching.

"Erm, about that," said Sirius, running a hand through his hair. "I think, maybe — we ought to talk. I mean…" he glanced at James and Peter, looking extremely self-conscious. "Moony, can we go somewhere… private? I want to, erm, apologize, and I think it would be better if we… that is…"

"Private sounds good," said Remus graciously, ignoring Sirius' obvious discomfort. "There's a room on the seventh floor that'll be perfect, I'll show you…"

James and Peter looked at each other as soon as Remus and Sirius had left the dormitory.

"Well, that could have been worse," said Peter.

James nodded. "I've never heard Sirius apologize for _anything_ before. Hopefully once they're alone he'll sound less like a stammering idiot…"

"I doubt it," said Peter, pulling a couple of bottles full of dark liquid out from under his mattress. "Firewhiskey?"

James and Peter had finished the first bottle of Firewhiskey and were well through the second by the time the door of the dormitory swung back open. Remus walked in, followed by the enormous black dog.

"So?" asked Peter, draining his glass. "Didja kiss and make up, then?"

"Something along those lines," said Remus, smiling. "It's hard to stay angry at Padfoot here. He's a very good boy, aren't you, Pads?"

The dog let out a joyful woof.

Later that evening, Sirius and James were sprawled on James' bed, trying to make their ceiling look like the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Sirius eventually stowed his wand and rolled over to look at James, his expression earnest. "Thanks for leaving the drawer open, mate."

"Er, that was an accident," said James. He glanced reflexively across the room at Remus, who appeared to be thoroughly absorbed in his Charms homework.

"Right, sure it was," said Sirius, stretching and yawning. There was a rustle at James' side and Sirius, as Padfoot, curled up against his legs.

"You kept up with the incantations, didn't you?" murmured James, scratching between the dog's ears. "Even though we didn't speak to you for the better part of a month."

The dog bobbed its head in response.

"I must admit, I'm impressed," said James in a low voice. "Didn't think you had the discipline. Then again," he added as Padfoot cast him a baleful look, "you _did_ end up transforming into a dog. Man's best friend and all that. If that's not a demonstration of loyalty, I dunno what is."

The dog let out a satisfied-sounding snort and stood up. It hopped off James' bed and joined Remus in his. Remus didn't look up from his homework as Padfoot snuggled next to him, but he did wrap an arm around the dog's neck, petting him almost absentmindedly as he turned the pages of his book.

James caught Peter's eye, and they smiled at each other. Then he laid back in bed, folding his arms behind his head and smiling contentedly at their half-enchanted ceiling. All was as it should be.

* * *

A horrible portrait of the Dark Lord had appeared in the Slytherin common room over the weekend, and the House was divided over whether or not it was in good taste. Most seemed to regard the painting as a vaguely amusing prank; Severus, of course, loathed the very sight of it, as he had a hunch about who its creators were. The other Intents found the portrait extremely disrespectful, and Bella in particular nearly had a fit when she realized that not even Avery could un-stick the painting from the wall.

The end result of this was that Bella came down on the Intents even harder, as if they personally had a hand in the creation of the portrait. She had them clean the common room using their own robes for rags nearly every night, much to Severus' exasperation. Unlike the other, pure-blood Intents, he only owned a few pairs of hand-me-down robes, and constant use was making them even more threadbare than they were already.

Bella's intensity expanded to Occlumency training, as well; she insisted that Severus spend every weekday evening practising with her, heedless of the fact that his O.W.L.s were less than a month away. Between the daily activities of the Intents, the weekly rituals, and now these Occlumency lessons, Severus' precious study time was rapidly dwindling down to nothing.

"Ha!" Bella barked one evening when Severus brought up the need to revise for his O.W.L.s. "You think the Dark Lord cares how many 'Outstandings' you get? You think he gives a rat's arse that you pass your precious Potions exam?"

"Forget it, then, and let's just go another round," snarled Severus, raising his wand. "Clearly keeping nameless mind-readers out of my head is more important than achieving passing marks on the exam that the entire Wizarding World considers to be—"

"You think this is about _nameless mind-readers_?" said Bella, her voice rising. "You have no idea the advantage Occlumency gives you, the gift I have dropped into your ungrateful —"

"Obviously, and I'm sure the examiners —"

"DO NOT INTERRUPT!" she shrieked. There was a crack like a whip and sparks shot from her wand, startling both of them. Severus eyed her warily, biting his tongue.

"As I was saying," continued Bella, breathing deeply, "if you think it is an _accident_ that I chose to teach you this magic, this magic _in particular_ , then you are stupider than I thought."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Enlighten me, then."

"There's going to be a test," said Bella. The words seemed to tumble out of her unbidden, as if she'd been dying to tell him for some time. "Before your Induction as Secondaries. Lucius is going to administer Veritaserum to all the Intents, and you will take turns asking each other a variety of… unpleasant questions. The exercise is designed to uncover the weaknesses of each Intent."

"And Occlumency is one method of bypassing Veritaserum."

"Not completely," said Bella. "You will still be forced to tell the truth. But if you master Occlumency, you will be able to hide your thoughts even from yourself, enabling you to speak only a version of the truth."

"Why give me such an advantage?" asked Severus. He still had not lowered his wand. "What do you have to gain by undermining Lucius?"

Bella laughed, running a hand through her wild curls. "Lucius was the one who gave the order that you should learn Occlumency! This is another tradition — allowing the most promising Intent to retain some semblance of their dignity when it comes time to be examined by their peers."

"And that's how you learned Occlumency," said Severus, putting the pieces together. "You were the most promising Intent." Bella nodded. She seemed more relaxed than she had moments ago, and he decided to push his luck. "What did you have to hide as an Intent?"

"Cheeky little Sev," said Bella, smiling broadly and raising her wand. "If you want to know so badly, why don't you try taking it from me?"

Severus' lips twitched. "Fine," he said, staring into her large gray eyes. " _Legilimens_."

At once, his mind filled with memories that were not his own, so vivid that he recoiled. There was so much to look at he didn't know where to start. A tiny girl with curly black hair was being Sorted; the Hat didn't so much as touch her head before shouting " _Slytherin_!"... A toddler in a green dress was chasing after her older sisters, laughing… Her mother was picking her up...

Severus began to feel slightly sick as the images flashed in his mind at a dizzying pace. Now the toddler was wearing the Sorting Hat, and the curly-haired girl was chasing her sisters. Now her mother was wearing a green dress, now the girl was staring at a raven whose neck was bent at an odd angle… Now the raven was in a green dress, wearing the Sorting Hat —

"Enough," he snapped, taking an involuntary step backwards as he broke the connection between them. He could feel the contents of his lunch rising in his throat, and he had to will himself not to be sick.

Bella looked completely unphased. She tilted her head. "Find anything useful?"

"Not remotely," he growled, and Bella smiled widely.

"Better luck next time, Sev. My turn, then… _Legilimens_."

It was nearly midnight by the time Bella tired of coaching him, and Severus felt notes of panic growing in his chest as he headed to his dormitory. He was able to conceal his most incriminating feelings about Lily, but he couldn't erase her from his mind entirely. She was everywhere — in all of his Hogwarts years, in his summers in Cokeworth, in every memory of his childhood worth remembering. He couldn't get rid of her. He was certain that his mental barriers would be even weaker after being dosed with Veritaserum.

Severus carefully opened the door to his dormitory, glancing at Mulciber's sleeping form. They might have a shaky truce, but he had no doubt that when the time came, Mulciber wouldn't hesitate to question him about Lily. And how would he respond?

His insides twisted as he imagined himself babbling about Lily, how long he had known her, the things he would do for her, how he didn't care that she was Muggle-born. That being Muggle-born merely added to her brilliance. Would Lucius be content to decline his Induction into the Death Eaters at that point? Or would Severus simply vanish, the way Muggles across the country were doing with increasing frequency, if the _Prophet_ was to be believed?

 _It won't happen_ , he told himself firmly, changing into his dingy pyjamas and climbing into bed. But even as he practised his mind-clearing exercises that night, he couldn't shake the feeling that a mere two weeks of Occlumency lessons wouldn't be enough to strengthen his mental defences. He could hear Bella's voice echoing through his head, over and over. _If the wrong people find out…_

He slept fitfully that night, and when he woke, it was with a pit in his stomach and a dreadful certainty about what he had to do.

* * *

The full moon rose the following Thursday, and James could barely sit still, he was so excited. He had such a hard time concentrating during class that Professor Flitwick actually took points when James flubbed a Banishing Charm so spectacularly that he exploded the cushion he was supposed to be practising on.

"Oh, _dear_ ," muttered Sirius as Flitwick descended upon them, making James laugh hysterically and earning an additional point taken.

After the lesson, they parted ways with Remus at the hospital wing. "Don't forget to transform _before_ you open the trapdoor," Remus reminded them, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes. "There's no rush if you can't manage the Transfiguration right away; just take your time, and when you're ready —"

"Remus, mate," said James. "Merlin's sake, stop worrying. You're starting to sound like my mum."

"I'm not _worrying_. I'm going over the plan," said Remus with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Well, stop planning, then," said James, prodding Remus towards the doors of the hospital wing. "Poppy's waiting for you. We'll see you in, say" — he checked his watch — "an hour or so."

Hidden by the Invisibility Cloak in the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, they watched Remus and Madam Pomfrey disappear down the tunnel of the Whomping Willow. By the time Madam Pomfrey reemerged from between the roots of the tree, the Cloak was draped neatly over a branch, and three pairs of animal eyes watched her set off towards the castle.

The dog let out a whine of anticipation, and the rat darted out from the edge of the forest, scrabbling up the trunk of the Whomping Willow and pushing the knot that froze its swaying branches.

The first challenge came next — the dog and the rat slipped easily into the tunnel, but the stag was simply too large to fit.

" _Damn_ having horns," said James finally, straightening up and rubbing his head, which still felt sore from where he had tried to widen the tunnel with his antlers. The dog whined again, sounding worried.

"It's fine, Padfoot," said James, dropping into the tunnel. "I'll just have to transform inside the Shack. Don't think I'll be able to fit through the trapdoor with a massive set of antlers, either."

The dog barked loudly at that, and James laughed. "Well, you'll just have to distract Moony while I enter the Shack, won't you? Don't tell me you're not capable of that!"

The dog and the rat glanced at each other, but they followed him down the tunnel. In the end, James pulled down the trapdoor, and the dog launched itself inside, followed closely by the rat. James waited a few moments before hoisting himself into the Shack after them. From another room came a low, feral growl, followed by the sound of crashing furniture, and the dog yipped.

James closed his eyes, feeling the quick thrum of his pulse as he searched for the other, stronger heartbeat inside his chest. The second heartbeat grew louder, galloping, overtaking his own —

Prongs reared onto his hindquarters as the wolf came careening into the room, snapping its jaws at him. His front hooves landed on the floor with a thud, and the wolf skidded to a halt, sniffing curiously at the stag.

Padfoot bounded into the room, barking, and tackled the wolf, which yelped in surprise. The two wrestled on the floor, play-fighting and nipping each other's fur. Prongs joined in, using his antlers to toss the wolf to one side of the room, which was great fun. The dog promptly began to bark loudly, demanding to be tossed as well.

That first full moon, in many ways, reminded James of all the nights they had spent in the Shrieking Shack as humans, drinking and carrying on. Padfoot and the wolf, in particular, got on exceedingly well, being about equal in size and strength. Peter, as Wormtail, led them all in several rowdy games of Hide-and-Seek, and they tried to play Hunt with Prongs as the prey, but there wasn't quite enough room.

Dawn broke through the boarded-up windows of the Shack as all four creatures were using a battered old blanket to play a raucous game of Tug, which Wormtail was losing quite badly. The wolf collapsed as soon as the first rays of sunlight touched its skin, letting out a low moan and twitching slightly. The other animals dropped the blanket, watching the wolf with something that might have been labelled concern. The dog whined, stepping forward and nudging the wolf with its nose.

There was a horrible snapping sound, like many bones breaking at once, and the wolf shrieked; its back arched as its neck lengthened and fur receded, giving way to skin. With another anguished howl, the wolf's head jerked forward, and suddenly Remus Lupin lay on the floor, eyes closed.

With a clatter of hooves, James returned to his human form, dropping to his knees at Remus' side. "Alright, Moony?" he asked, placing a hand on Remus' back.

Remus stirred, blinking his eyes blearily. "Never… better," he rasped, and then broke off as a coughing fit wracked his body. Slowly, he rolled onto his back, wincing and clutching his side. "Think… you might have got me, Prongs…"

He lifted the corner of his shirt, revealing several spreading bruises and a gash, small but deep, across his ribs. Padfoot whimpered, glaring accusingly at James.

"Don't you give me that look!" said James defensively. "Sorry, Remus, mate. Want me to try my hand at a healing spell?"

"No need," said Remus hoarsely, pulling his shirt back down. "This is nothing compared to... compared to what I usually get up to. Madam Pomfrey'll be able to heal it in about a second. Speaking of…" he glanced at the sun coming in through the boarded-up windows. "You lot should probably take the long way back to Hogwarts. She'll be coming up through the tunnel soon."

After bidding Remus goodbye, the stag, dog and rat slipped out the door of the Shrieking Shack, making their leisurely way up to the castle from Hogsmeade. After eating an early breakfast, they went to Transfiguration, where James plopped into his seat, exhausted, but feeling thoroughly and wonderfully alive.

* * *

During free period on Wednesday afternoon, Severus managed to avoid revising with the other Intents by claiming that he still hadn't finished his pledge and needed the time to practise. As soon as he'd stepped out of the library, he made his way to the dungeons, rapping a clenched fist on the door to Slughorn's office.

"Sliverus!" boomed Professor Slughorn. "Come in, old boy! How can I help you?"

"Just wondering where Lily is, sir," said Severus quickly. "She wanted me to bring her some more rue. You know, for her independent study…" He let his voice trail off meaningfully as he reached under his robes, pulling out a bundle of rue.

"I'm sure Lily will appreciate the help," said Slughorn jovially. "Clever witch, that one."

"Indeed," said Severus stiffly. "Sir."

"Witches like her don't come around every lifetime, you know," continued Slughorn, winking an eye at Severus as he hoisted himself to his feet. "Now… I believe Lily has commandeered Workshop Five for her potion-brewing purposes. Do you need me to show you the way?"

"That won't be necessary," said Severus, inclining his head a little and backing out of the room. "Thank you for your help, sir. I'll give her your regards."

He Vanished the rue on the way to Workshop Five, which was located in a corridor just around the corner from Slughorn's office. When he tried the handle of the workroom, he was surprised to find it locked; as he raised his hand to knock, however, the door swung open.

"What do you want?" asked Lily, her arms crossed. "I don't know if I ever told you, but I'm brewing a highly sensitive potion and don't have time for distractions."

"Brought you something," said Severus. "Can I come in?"

Lily narrowed her eyes at him, but her posture softened. Finally, she nodded, and Severus breathed a small sigh of relief as she beckoned him into the room. A small cauldron sat in the centre of the workshop, bubbling away as several brass instruments hovered around it, taking measurements.

"You've figured out the rue, then," said Severus, eyeing the cauldron.

"Clearly," said Lily. "Why are you here, Sev?"

"Right," said Severus, rummaging in his bag and handing her a pair of gloves. "These are for you."

Lily looked at him sceptically. "Those are my mum's old gloves. Y'know, the useless ones? I've got a dragonhide pair now —"

"Try them on," said Severus. "Trust me."

Lily took the gloves with obvious reluctance. Her eyes flicked to Severus' face, and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod. She sighed and pulled the gloves on. Immediately her eyes widened. "These — you…"

"I reinforced the lining with hide from a Welsh Green," said Severus. "And rubbed down the outsides with Ironbelly oil. They should work as well as any pair of Wizarding gloves now."

Lily flexed her fingers, staring at the gloves. "You didn't have to…"

"You'll have to reapply the oil every six months or so, but I imagine that's not asking too much," continued Severus, as if he hadn't heard. "Of course, if you prefer the pair you already have, I won't be —"

Lily threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "Thank you," she said into his ear. "I've missed you."

"The last few months have been awful, haven't they?" asked Severus wryly, untangling himself from her.

"That's one way of putting it," said Lily, wiping her eyes and smiling at him. "Want to get out of here? I need to run down to the greenhouses to get some thyme…"

"Of course," said Severus. They stepped into the corridor, and Severus watched Lily lock the door to the workshop with a small bronze key, which she slipped into her bag.

"So what have you been up to, anyway?" asked Lily, swinging her arms through the air as they walked through the Entrance Hall.

"Revising, mostly," said Severus. "Did you have career counselling with McGonagall?"

"Yeah," said Lily, breathing deeply as they stepped out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. "Ah… smells like spring. I suppose you met with old Sluggy, didn't you? Was he ever so helpful?"

"You guessed it," said Severus, smirking a little. "He thinks 'Sliverus' should take up a Potions apprenticeship in Diagon Alley after graduating."

"At least he's aware you're decent at Potions," said Lily. "Even if he can't be arsed to remember your name."

Severus snorted. "Some consolation. What did McGonagall have to say to you?"

"Well, she brought up my marks in Potions, obviously, and in Charms," said Lily as they took the well-trodden path that led to the greenhouses. "She suggested I look into a job with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, but…" she shuddered dramatically. "I think I'd rather pop my clogs."

"The Reversal Squad wouldn't be that bad," said Severus. "Of course, ninety-nine per cent of the job's Splinching cases, but…"

"That's what I told her," said Lily. "It'd be _boring_. Plus, I just can't see myself as a Ministry girl. That's when she…" The faintest hint of a blush tinged her cheeks. "She actually suggested I look into Healing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And, I dunno, Sev, I've been thinking about it, and it might actually be a good fit, don't you think?" She was rushing to get the words out. "I mean, you have to be good at Potions to be a Healer, and there's an aspect of thinking on your feet, not to mention there're all sorts of charms I'd have to learn…"

"You'd be a brilliant Healer," Severus told her, and her blush deepened. "Seriously."

"You really think?"

"I do," said Severus. "If it's something you're interested in, I think you should pursue it."

"Healing would come in useful, too," she said. "You know, if we… if the Wizarding World really ends up at war."

"That's ridiculous," said Severus before he could stop himself. "There's not going to be a war."

"No, right, 'course not," said Lily hurriedly. "I only meant — if there was…"

"There won't be," said Severus. "All that's happening now is a bunch of fanatics are engaging in guerrilla tactics to advance their agenda. That's completely different from a war." Lily nodded vaguely, but her brow was furrowed. Severus cast a sideways glance at her. "I would hope you wouldn't be fighting in a real war, anyway. If there's actually open combat, people will die, you know."

"I know," said Lily softly. "But people are dying anyway. _Our_ people." She met his eyes and he had to will himself not to flinch. "Besides, I wouldn't be on the front lines as a Healer, would I? I'd be in a more… supportive role."

"I suppose," said Severus, and they fell silent, listening to the far-off shouts of students enjoying the weather.

Lily spoke first, keeping her eyes on the path in front of them. "If there is a war..." She hesitated. "Which side do you think you'd find yourself on?"

"Whichever side you're on, obviously."

That answer apparently wasn't good enough for Lily. "Come on, Sev," she said, jostling him. "Be serious. I know you have friends who…"

"There's not going to be a war," said Severus firmly. "But if there is, you're mad if you think I'd bet against Lily Evans."

Lily smiled, looking relieved. "So I'll be on the sidelines, as a Healer, and you'll be…?"

"Locked in an apothecary somewhere, making Potions for the cause."

"Sluggy would be proud," said Lily, laughing. "Would you be inventing spells, too, d'you think?"

Severus remembered the _Sectumsempra_ curse he was perfecting and began to feel ill. "Probably."

In the greenhouse, Lily was so excited to finally be at the stage where she needed thyme — or maybe she was simply delighted that she and Severus were getting along, for once — that she flitted from plant to plant, talking loudly and dropping her trimming shears multiple times. As they were leaving, she nearly forgot her bag, causing Severus to dash back into the greenhouse to grab it for her.

After they arrived at the castle, Lily bid him goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and practically skipped to her workroom. It was only after she'd vanished from sight that Severus, hating himself with every fibre of his being, reached into his pocket and pulled out a perfect copy of a small, bronze key.

Success.


	11. Liquid Luck

The last Saturday in May was bright and breezy, perfect weather for the Quidditch final against Ravenclaw. In the days leading up to the match, every second James wasn't on the pitch, he was talking strategy with Parvana Patil and Peregrine Flint, or running plays using the chess pieces he'd Transfigured into miniature Quidditch players. When he slept, he dreamt of flying.

"Captains, if you would," said Madam Hooch. James nodded and stretched out his hand towards Chester Fernsby, the beefy Ravenclaw captain, who pretended to yawn before shaking hands. James' grip tightened, and Fernsby smirked; clearly, he thought this would be an easy win for Ravenclaw. Admittedly, Gryffindor needed to be at least forty points up before catching the Snitch if they wanted to win the Cup, which was a lot to ask, but it wasn't _impossible_.

"Great, they've started," said Sirius from the commentator's box as Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "Show of hands, who thinks James is gonna be even more of a Quaffle-hog than usual today, in hopes that some third-rate recruiter is watching from the stands?… Just me, then?"

James grinned, urging his broom upwards as the two teams shot into the sky. It was good to hear Sirius' taunts again.

Sirius' voice continued to drift across the stadium as James and his fellow Chasers, set up their first formation. "Looks like Potter's got the Quaffle, surprise surprise, Potter to Peregrine Flint, Flint to Hana Suzuki — _nice_ avoidance of Ravenclaw there — Suzuki shoots… and — GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

There was a roar of approval from the stands, and several students shot red and gold sparks into the air. As James followed the other Chasers back towards the Gryffindor side of the pitch, he hopped to his feet on his broom and bowed dramatically.

"Someone needs to tell Potter this is Quidditch, not Muggle surfing," remarked Sirius. "James, mate, _you didn't even score the goal._ Ooh, speaking of Muggle culture, _ugly_ hand gesture there from Potter towards the commentator's box… that merits at least a penalty, I'd think… Anyway, Ravenclaw in possession, Fernsby to Archibald Bole — looks like the Ravenclaw Chasers are attempting a Howlet's Wing formation — which falls apart thanks to _double_ Bludgers from Gryffindor Beaters Marlene McKinnon and Otis Podmore… looks like Bole's nose is bleeding quite badly. That's why I stick to commentating, ladies and gents, can't risk damaging the Galleon-maker… Oh, of all the —"

Sirius swore loudly into the megaphone. "Ravenclaw score, didn't even realize they had possession — Professor McGonagall says if I stuck to describing the match at hand, I wouldn't have this problem, she may have a point — bad luck, Gryffindor…"

Within ten minutes, both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had scored twice more. "They're too good, James," called Parvana from high above him. "Just let me catch the Snitch so we can end on a high note."

"Not a chance," said James, keeping one eye on the Ravenclaw Chasers. "We're taking the Cup if it's the last thing we do."

Parvana reached up to adjust her plait. "Got something to prove, do you?"

"Trust me," said James. "Don't you dare touch the Snitch till we're forty points up."

Parvana looked like she wanted to argue, but she dipped her head in response before veering away to continue her circle of the pitch.

"Score's thirty-thirty, Gryffindor in possession," said Sirius. "Suzuki to Potter — Usman Shafiq sending a _nasty_ Bludger Potter's way, and — Oh, that's not good…"

James had swerved at exactly the wrong moment, and the Bludger smashed directly into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. The force of the blow hurtled him backwards, nearly off his broom, and the Quaffle slipped from his fingers.

Madam Hooch's tinny whistle sounded from far below him. "Ravenclaw foul!"

"You alright, James?" asked Hana Suzuki as they lined up for the penalty shot.

James was wheezing for breath. "Ask me again in a minute." He turned the Quaffle over in his hands as he watched Sylvia Bellchant, the Ravenclaw Keeper, hover in front of the goalposts. With a grunt of pain, he hefted the Quaffle and flung it towards the hoop on the far right. Bellchant dove, but she wasn't fast enough, and the Quaffle soared through the hoop.

"That's better," said James, rubbing his smarting chest. "Ravenclaw's Chasers are good, but Bellchant can't defend worth dung."

"New strategy, then?" asked Peregrine. "Sacrifice our bodies for penalty shots?"

James nodded. "Exactly."

Hana Suzuki got the next shot on goal after she was mowed down by Ravenclaw's Chasers as they sped towards the Gryffindor hoops.

"No good, Ravenclaw!" Sirius cried gleefully, shaking his head. "Can't make a formation when the other team are in the way. Basic physics — that's the Muggle theory of matter, for those who don't know…"

"I'm glad you're well-prepared for you Muggle Studies O.W.L., Black," said Professor McGonagall over the megaphone, "but could you _please_ focus on the match?"

"News flash, everybody, Professor McGonagall is not a fan of Muggles," said Sirius loudly into the megaphone. "You heard it here first — Okay, okay, sorry Professor... Ravenclaw in possession, Bole passes to — _ouch_ , the Quaffle hits Gryffindor Beater Podmore in an unfortunate spot… not likely to do any permanent damage, though — you'd want a Bludger for that, a Quaffle's the wrong ball… excuse the pun, Podmore…"

"Now, Parvana!" called James after Peregrine Flint managed to fall dramatically off his broom after being jostled by Fernsby, earning Ravenclaw their fourth foul and Gryffindor their fourth penalty shot.

"Eighty-forty, Gryffindor in the lead," said Sirius from the commentator's box. "The match could be either team's to win, now — Ravenclaw in possession, Fernsby and Bole doing something weird with their brooms… Shafiq joins them, bit funny the way he's holding his Beater's bat — ooh, they've made the Dragon's Egg formation, that's going to be tricky for Gryffindor to break… Fernsby narrowly avoids a Bludger from McKinnon, they're closing in on the goal now… Wait a moment, MERLIN'S BADLY BLEEDING —"

There was a dull thump as Professor McGonagall put her hand over the megaphone, muffling whatever Sirius was about to say next.

"Parvana Patil of Gryffindor has gone into a steep dive," said Professor McGonagall over the megaphone, a slight tremble in her voice betraying her excitement. "Ravenclaw nearly at the hoops now —"

"PATIL'S SEEN THE SNITCH!" screamed Sirius, drowning out Professor McGonagall.

James' heart leapt into his throat as Parvana dove, arm outstretched, towards the ground. She cut in front of the Ravenclaw Chasers, who slammed into her, turning her nosedive into a tumble as she grappled with her broom.

The Snitch was skimming across the grass of the Quidditch pitch now. Parvana was still in a freefall, barely ten feet from the ground. She flipped upside-down on her broom, hanging by her knees as she reached both arms towards the Snitch —

"SHE'S GOING TO CRASH!" yelled Sirius. "MERLIN, PATIL, HANG IN THERE!"

Parvana uncrossed her legs and plummeted off her broom. She somersaulted over the grass once, twice, before crumpling in a heap on the ground. The stadium was silent, watching her limp form.

Slowly, she raised one arm above her head, a glint of gold between her fingers.

"SHE'S GOT IT!" screamed Sirius, and an enormous roar went up from the stands. "FINAL SCORE TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY TO FORTY — GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!"

Madam Hooch blew her whistle three times, signalling the end of the match, and James nudged his broom towards the ground. Marlene and Otis had already landed and were helping Parvana to her feet.

"Alright, Patil?" called James, placing a hand on her head. Her neat plait had come undone in several places from her dive.

"Never better," she replied, flashing him a triumphant grin.

James plucked the Snitch from Parvana's hands and pocketed it before she could protest. "If Madam Hooch asks, tell her the Snitch got away from you in all the excitement."

Parvana grinned. "We're keeping it forever, aren't we?"

"'Course we are," said James, rolling the ball between his fingers. "Gryffindor wins the Cup for the first time in over a decade? This Snitch is part of _history_."

After showering in the changing room, James joined the rest of his teammates in a triumphant parade back to the castle, holding the Cup high over their heads. As they reached the first floor landing, he paused.

"You lot go on, I'll catch you up," James said, trying to shrug sheepishly.

"Off to do the dirty with the Cup, eh?" said Peregrine, laughing and slapping him on the back. "Your deepest fantasy finally realized…"

"Piss off, Flint," said James, but he was smiling. His teammates continued up the stairs, Otis and Marlene carrying Parvana above their heads, and James ducked around the corner, towards Professor McGonagall's office.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer; McGonagall must have been with the other teachers, doing whatever they did after a Quidditch match. Rubbing Gryffindor's win in Professor Slughorn's face, he hoped.

The door to the office was locked, but James had expected that. He pulled his wand out of his robes and pointed it at the Cup.

" _Alliago_ ," he muttered, and the Cup's form began to melt as it turned into a sheet of parchment. He slid the parchment under the door and, with another flourish of his wand, Untransfigured it back into a trophy.

Next came the hard part. James waved his wand blindly, hoping to send it in the direction of Professor McGonagall's desk. A series of loud crashes sounded from the office, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. In the end, he was fairly certain the Cup was sitting comfortably in the display case behind her desk, although he was fairly certain he'd broken the case's glass front in the process.

James pulled a quill and a scrap of parchment from his bag and scribbled a brief note, which he slid under the door.

 _Professor McGonagall,_

 _Found this old Cup lying around and thought you might like to have it._

 _\- JP_

 _P.S. Wild storm we had the other day, eh?_

The common room was completely empty by the time James got back to Gryffindor tower, save for Remus' battered old trunk, was lying rather conspicuously in front of the fireplace. James knelt beside the trunk and flipped the latches, humming to himself.

As he opened the lid, he heard shouts and whistles coming from inside, accompanied by loud music. He climbed into the trunk and straightened up, grinning. On the inside, the trunk was the size of a ballroom, covered from floor to ceiling in red and gold hangings and filled near to bursting with what looked like the entirety of Gryffindor house.

"The man of the hour!" cried Sirius, bounding forward and pressing a goblet full of dark red liquid into his hand. He swept his arms out, indicating the room. "What do you think? Impressive, eh?"

"Remind me to never underestimate your spellwork," said James. He took a long swig from the goblet. The drink must have been one of Sirius' concoctions; immediately after he swallowed, scarlet-coloured steam began to pour from his ears. "I didn't realize Undetectable Expansion Charms could make things quite so… expansive."

"Well, not normally," said Sirius. "We had to finagle it a bit, which had the unfortunate side-effect of making the trunk a bit… magically unstable."

"No duelling, in other words," said Remus, appearing at James' side and holding out a hand. "Your wand, please, Sirius."

James frowned. "You're confiscating our wands?"

"Nah," said Remus with a grin. "Just Mr Magically-Unstable over here. He's nearly blown us all up twice already."

"I maintain that exploding the punch bowl was an accident and doesn't count," said Sirius, but he shoved his wand at Remus anyway and promptly skipped onto the dance floor.

"You two are getting on well, then, aren't you?" asked James, watching Remus' eyes track Sirius in the crowd. "If you're back to pushing the limits of spellcasting together…"

Remus lifted a shoulder. "He said he was sorry. Can't ask for more than that, can I?"

"Sure, but 'sorry' doesn't mean everything goes back to normal."

"James," said Remus, sounding pained. "He's your best mate."

"I mean, yeah, but that doesn't — you didn't have to…"

Sirius was dancing unselfconsciously with Mary Macdonald. His movements were large and exuberant, yet somehow still graceful. Remus watched them, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I've chosen to believe he means well," he said finally. "For the good of us all." James opened his mouth to protest, but Remus jerked his head towards the punch bowl at the edge of the room. "Come on. Enough mopey Moony. Let's celebrate your victory."

* * *

Bella called for a special ritual to be held during the first week of O.W.L.s. She didn't give any details, only saying they'd meet at midnight on Monday, but Severus knew what was about to happen; this was when Lucius Malfoy would dose them with Veritaserum.

Severus could barely keep his eyes open after taking both the theory and practical portions of his Charms O.W.L. Avery, for his part, appeared to be staying awake through sheer anxiety, muttering to himself when he thought nobody was listening. Mulciber didn't show any signs of fatigue at all.

As they were leaving the common room for Dungeon Thirteen, Severus pretended to have forgotten his wand and dashed back to the dormitory. Once he was safely hidden behind the curtains of his bed, he pulled a small vial filled with golden liquid out from under his pillow. As soon as Severus looked at it, his stomach twisted, and he felt like he'd swallowed a rock.

He'd stolen Lily's Felix Felicis while she was taking the Charms practical. As he'd snuck down to the potions workrooms, he had debated Disillusioning himself, but Professor Slughorn had been nowhere in sight. He'd slipped in and out of Workshop Five using the little bronze key he'd copied the previous week, and nobody had been any the wiser.

He unstoppered the vial, tipping his head back and letting a couple of drops slide down his throat. After a moment, a feeling of warmth began to grow inside of him. It was if he'd swallowed a candle. His guts untwisted themselves as his guilt vanished and a sense of wellbeing settled over him. He had been foolish to worry about the Veritaserum, truly… His mental defences were strong, nearly as strong as Bella's. Nobody would suspect a thing.

No longer anxious about his Induction, Severus stowed the empty vial under his pillow and rejoined his fellow Intents, who were waiting for him in the corridor.

Inside Dungeon Thirteen, Lucius Malfoy was lounging in a high-backed white chair at the head of a table that was inlaid with gold. In front of him were seven crystal glasses filled with clear liquid, and Bella sat in the chair at his side.

Bella smiled as the Intents filed in. "Sit," she said grandly, gesturing towards the empty chairs at the table. The Intents sat, shooting each other nervous glances.

"Sev," hissed Avery from the corner of his mouth, his eyes on the glasses. "Is that — are they —"

Severus inclined his head a fraction, and a whimper escaped Avery's throat. Severus locked eyes with Bella, who was draped in so many layers of silver silk that it looked as if she were part Veela. She narrowed her eyes, and he thought he felt a little nudge at the edge of his consciousness. He lifted his chin a bit, daring her to probe deeper even as he cleared his mind of all emotion and memory. _Keep looking. You will find nothing here._

Bella blinked and settled back in her chair, a small smile playing around her lips. She looked obediently towards Lucius, who nodded in response and leaned forward, his hands steepled in front of him.

"Tonight is a special night," said Lucius, his eyes sweeping the table. "I count myself fortunate to be in attendance, as this is my favourite of all the Rituals of Intention."

"Mine as well," said Bella. "Some of you may have already guessed, from the potion on the table — tonight we will be drinking Veritaserum."

"We, Bella?" asked Evan Rosier, his eyes darting towards Lucius as if he was unsure whether he was allowed to speak.

Bella winked at him. "Of course. Don't I partake in every ritual, as your mentor? This will be no exception."

Mulciber and Avery looked impressed, but Severus knew better. Bella was an accomplished Occlumens, and had already been exposed to Veritaserum when she was an Intent; she was not Truth Potion-naive like the rest of the Intents. Taking Veritaserum would hardly leave her vulnerable. Her willingness to participate made a good show, though, he supposed.

"It is time, I believe," said Lucius, nodding at the potions. "Let us see what you would rather hide."

Bella smiled beatifically at the Intents, raising her own glass in a toast before downing its contents. The Intents followed suit, though Avery looked distastefully at his vial before swallowing the potion.

Severus put his glass carefully to his lips and took a sip. The Veritaserum had no smell, no taste; it could have been water. In fact, after he had drunk the entire glass, he felt no different than he had a minute before. He raised his glass to eye level, examining the way the crystals caught the light. Was it possible there had been a mistake? Could his glass actually have been full of water?

 _Caution,_ warned a voice in the back of Severus' mind. _Things are not as they appear._ Severus nodded to himself, agreeing with the voice, and his chest swelled with pride. He was so clever, he always had been. He only needed to trust himself.

"That's better," breathed Bella, her eyelids fluttering open as she swallowed the last of the liquid in her glass. She gave the Intents a benevolent smile, flashing every one of her square teeth at them. "I will go first, I think, to show how this is done. If you are in agreement, Lucius?"

"I am," said Lucius, inclining his head. "Bella, if you would tell me, what form does your Boggart take?"

 _My father_ , thought Severus. The words were on the tip of his tongue, and he had to fight the urge to blurt them out. _It's Bella's turn,_ he reminded himself, but that didn't satisfy him; he needed to speak, he craved it. Perhaps Veritaserum had been in his glass after all.

Bella hummed, tilting her head. "My Boggart takes the form of a Muggle with a torch who wants to burn me alive."

"Enlightening," said Lucius. Privately, Severus thought it was awfully coincidental that Bella's Boggart doubled as a demonstration of her devotion to the cause.

"My turn, then," said Bella, scanning the Intents. Avery had his hands clapped over his mouth to prevent himself from speaking. "Rabastan?"

Rabastan Lestrange's head snapped up, an eager look in his angled eyes. "Yes, Bella?"

"Tell me, Rabastan," purred Bella, "who in this room do you hate the most?"

"I hate you, Bella," said Lestrange, though his eyes seemed to widen in surprise at the words that were tumbling out his mouth. "There're lots of reasons. My brother courts you, and you say that you love him, but I know he's not the only one you're seeing. And you make us — the Intents — hurt each other. We should be hurting other people, not ourselves. It's wrong."

"Oh, Rabastan," said Bella, smiling widely. "You're giving away secrets that are not your own. Don't worry — I'm not angry. But I think I will refrain from speaking on my relationship with your brother for now. Does it feel good to speak the truth?"

"It does," said Lestrange, though his brow was still furrowed.

"It does," agreed Bella. "Now, do you know why I have you practice on each other, Rabastan? It is so you don't embarrass me when the Dark Lord gives you unpleasant tasks to perform. Our rituals teach obedience, and discipline, and trust. Have any of you come to permanent harm under my guidance?"

"No, Bella," said Lestrange, looking somewhat ashamed now.

"So will it be when you swear allegiance to the Dark Lord. Obey and trust, and no harm will come to any of you." Bella leaned back in her chair and arranged her silver robes, looking quite pleased with herself. "Aren't you glad we had this talk, Rabastan? Do you have more confidence in my leadership?"

"I do," breathed Lestrange. "Now I think I hate Malfoy the most. That is —" His entire face flushed scarlet. "Not that — I don't know him well enough to —"

Bella's laugh was high and sharp. Beside her, Lucius smiled graciously. "You've got a little problem with authority figures, don't you, Rabastan?" he asked. "From what I know of your father, it runs in the family. No matter — I am not offended. Now then, which of you would like to go next?"

"Me," said Avery at once. He nearly bouncing up and down with eagerness, though Severus noticed that he also looked vaguely confused, as if he wasn't quite sure why he was volunteering himself.

Lestrange smiled, seeming relieved that he was no longer the centre of attention. "Right, then, Edmund," he said. "Erm… what did you think about the last time you, er, polished your wand?"

Avery's ears turned red, and Mulciber snickered. Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. For all Bella's talk, Lestrange had a point; most of these rituals were humiliating, even if they were designed to bond the Intents further.

Severus was so lost in thought that he missed Avery's answer. From the way Mulciber and Wilkes shifted their chairs away from Avery, though, he had a good guess as to what Avery might have said.

"Interesting," said Bella, her eyes sparkling. "So you like to think about other people's wands. Do you feel better, letting us know your secret?"

Avery was biting his lip in an effort to keep himself from responding. He was silent for nearly ten seconds, and a trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. Finally, he spoke. "No. There's a reason I was keeping that to myself."

"But if we don't know the secrets you hide, how will we be able to protect you as Primaries and Secondaries?" asked Bella, as if she were talking to a child. "It wouldn't do for us to be caught off guard. That's how Death Eaters get compromised. You don't want to be compromised, do you, Edmund?"

Avery shrugged, not meeting Bella's eyes. "No."

"It's good that you've shared," said Lucius. "This is information that your brothers need to know. And not to worry; no Death Eater will raise an eyebrow at your" — he coughed delicately — " _affinities_ , so long as they don't extend to Muggles. Now, who would you like to question?"

"Mulciber, I guess," said Avery. He lifted a trembling hand to his mouth to wipe away the blood there. He looked like he was about to cry, but he seemed unable to stop himself from turning towards Mulciber. "Augustus, have you ever… I mean, would you be interested in… We spend a lot of time together, and…"

"No," said Mulciber at once, and Wilkes laughed. "Absolutely not."

If Severus hadn't been focused on emptying his mind of emotion, he would have felt sorry for Avery, who looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

"On the same topic, though, I have a question for Severus," said Mulciber. Severus took a slow breath through his nostrils, willing himself not to react. He had known this was coming, whether from Mulciber or Bella or another Intent. There was no escaping it.

 _Calm_ , said the voice at the back of his empty mind. He had nothing to hide. He was detached from emotion, from memory, from self.

"So, _Sev_ ," said Mulciber, leaning forward in his chair. There was a vicious glint in his icy blue eyes. "Care to tell us about Lily Evans? See, I don't know if I can trust a brother who finds Mudbloods attractive."

Severus' lip curled, though inside he felt like jumping for joy. Stupid, stupid, Mulciber. Didn't he know Truth Potions needed specificity to be effective?

"Lily Evans," he said, dragging the words out, waiting to see what memories rose to the forefront of his mind. Nothing. "We met in Potions class first year." Not a lie; they _had_ met in Potions class, and other places besides. "We shared an interest in the subject. In the years that followed, our friendship persisted, even as the political climate grew considerably more… hostile."

Lucius smirked at that, and Bella giggled a little, giving Severus a moment to collect himself. He knew that Felix Felicis was the only reason his heart wasn't beating out of his chest. "Recently, though," he said, "our relationship has been… tense. You may find it hard to believe, but she has a certain distaste for the Dark Arts."

"Get to the point," growled Mulciber. "Who is Lily Evans to you?"

Severus fixed his eyes not on Mulciber, but on Lucius, who was listening attentively, head cocked to one side. "Lily Evans is my Potions partner and a Mudblood," he said flatly. "She is someone of little consequence."

Severus paused, Felix Felicis thrumming through his blood. He felt elated and slightly out of breath, like he'd just run a marathon. He examined the contents of his mind, but no thoughts of Lily rose to contradict what he'd just said.

Lucius nodded slowly. Beside him, Bella caught sight of Mulciber's expression and laughed.

"Oh, Augustus, no need to look so disappointed!" she said. "We can't all be harbouring secrets as juicy as Edmund's. Severus, who do you have a question for?"

"Lucius," said Severus immediately.

Lucius Malfoy blinked. "I haven't taken Veritaserum tonight, Severus."

"As is your right," said Severus, letting Felix Felicis guide his speech. "Nevertheless, I hope you will answer me honestly. Who here do you think has the most potential?"

He held his breath, waiting for a response. A slow smile stretched across Lucius' thin face. "Excellent question," he said. "I admire your nerve. And I must say — every time we interact, I find myself more and more impressed by you, Severus. Does that suffice for an answer?"

Severus inclined his head, a slight smirk across his lips as he leaned back in his chair. He'd done it. He'd actually done it.

There was another small nudge at the back of his mind. He couldn't tell whether it was coming from Bella, or one of the potions he'd taken that night, or, God forbid, his own conscience — if he even still had one. _That's right, you've done it. Now to pay the cost._

* * *

Something was wrong with her potion. Lily knew it as soon as she let herself into Workroom Five, an hour before her Potions O.W.L. was due to start. There was no movement to the liquid, no burbling golden drops, and the colour had turned a deep bronze.

The protective charms on her Felix Felicis had been activated, then. She'd set them to overheat the cauldron if anyone other than her disturbed the surface of the potion. It would have taken less than fifteen seconds for the potion to spoil.

There was only one conclusion. Someone had attempted to steal her Felix Felicis, and she knew exactly who it had been.

She went to Professor Slughorn immediately, to notify him that there'd been a breach in the protective enchantments surrounding her workroom. The expression on his face when he peered into her cauldron confirmed things for her, and it was all she could do not to cry. An entire year of work, ruined. Sabotaged.

Stolen.

She swore up and down to Professor Slughorn that she had no idea who might have tampered with her potion, despite wondering dully why she was even bothering to protect Severus anymore. He'd shown her all year who he was, and now the evidence was undeniable. She was so naive. So stupid.

In the end, she managed to convince Professor Slughorn that someone must have thought it funny to ruin her potion as an anti-Muggle-born prank; she left out the bit about being certain at least a thimbleful of Felix had been stolen. No use upsetting Professor Slughorn further, not when she knew who the perpetrator was. Not when she could enact a vengeance sweeter than any detention he could give.

It was in this mindset that she entered Dungeon One, which had been magically expanded to accommodate all the fifth years at Hogwarts. Severus was seated in one of the upper tiers, next to Mulciber; interestingly, Avery was a couple of rows down, sitting on his own.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, and Severus looked up, startled. His heavy brow furrowed as his black eyes searched her own. Looking, she was sure, for a sign that she was angry. That she knew what he did.

"Go ahead," said Severus at last, still regarding her warily.

She smiled sweetly at him in response, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Sev."

Their examiner was a man with greying hair who was so tall and thin that he looked like a ghostly scarecrow. He waved his wand slowly through the air, and examination booklets appeared on each desk, along with a blank scroll of parchment.

"Good luck, then," said Lily brightly to Severus as the examiner turned over the large hourglass that sat on the central podium. "I'm sure you'll do well — you're brilliant at Potions."

"Thanks," said Severus. He was still eyeing her as though at any moment she would turn into a chimaera and begin wreaking havoc on the classroom. "You, too."

Theory of Potions was easier than Lily had expected, which was a good thing, seeing as she was more than a little distracted by sitting so close to Severus. She gritted her teeth at the sound of his quill scratching on his parchment. She wanted nothing more than to upend his table and throw him bodily across the room. Maybe she really was part chimaera.

Something knocked against her hand, startling her, and she looked down. Her inkwell was rattling violently, threatening to spill its contents across her parchment. She took several deep breaths, and the inkwell calmed down. There was no use in creating a scene here with accidental magic; it was better to be patient. She would have her revenge.

Her moment came that afternoon, during the practical portion of their Potions O.W.L. "Oh, well done, well done," said the examiner, bending slowly over her cauldron and wafting the fumes towards his pointed nose. "A beautifully brewed Alihotsy Draught… and do I smell citrus?"

"Yes, sir," said Lily, giving her potion one last stir. "I add limewort to balance the side-effects from the moondew, which causes flushing in a minority of wizards who take the Draught."

"Splendid improvisation," said the examiner. "I daresay you've got quite a future in Potions ahead of you, Miss…?"

"Evans," said Lily. She pretended not to notice the slight raise of the examiner's eyebrows at her Muggle surname. "And actually, sir, I've been working on an independent study this year, brewing… well, can I show you?"

She smiled brightly up at the examiner, who chuckled and nodded, allowing Lily to reach into her bag. At the desk beside her, Severus stiffened.

"Let me see…" Lily said, digging around in her bag. "Got it!"

She pulled the little vial out of her bag and held it up so it caught the light. Inside the vial, her ruined potion was the colour of rotting autumn leaves. "Felix Felicis," she said with relish. Beside her, Severus was as still as if he had been Petrified, one hand stretched over his cauldron.

"If I may…" said the examiner, holding out his hand. Lily nodded and dropped the vial into his palm, smiling so broadly that her cheeks hurt.

"This… That is…" said the examiner, making a humming noise. "I suppose you added the rue during the new moon?"

"Oh, always, sir," said Lily. "What do you think? It's a perfect specimen if I do say so myself."

"And you used a female Ashwinder egg, not that of a male?"

"Of course," said Lily. "I followed the instructions exactly. Would you like to try a drop? Not too much, though, or you might not feel like marking our exams." She giggled a little.

"Ah… though tempting, I'm afraid I must decline," said the examiner. He set the vial delicately down on her table, as though afraid it would explode.

"Then I'll have to be the one to try it," said Lily, and the examiner's indulgent smile changed to a look of horror.

"Lily…" said Severus at last, and she had to fight to keep the grin plastered on her face.

"This is exciting, isn't it, Sev?" babbled Lily, breaking the seal on the vial with her thumb. "I've heard it's an amazing feeling, taking Felix…"

"Miss Evans," said the examiner weakly, "I don't know how to tell you this, but that sample… It might be for the best that we let it be…"

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that," said Lily, widening her eyes. "I've worked so hard all year — I need to know how it came out! Felix is a tricky potion, you know, disastrous effects when improperly brewed…" She winked at the astonished examiner before raising the vial to her lips.

"Lily," said Severus urgently. Beside him, Mulciber was gazing at her like a cat watching a mouse. "Don't. Clearly now's a bad time —"

"Don't be jealous, Sev," said Lily. "It's not a good look on you."

"You ought to test it on an animal, to make sure it's safe," said Severus, his voice rising. "Or a couple of willing first years, or — or give it here, and I'll —"

"Thanks but no thanks," said Lily, locking eyes with him. "I made this potion, and I know I followed the steps correctly, so I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

Severus stared at her, mouth ajar. She smiled back at him. She hoped her performance was good enough, that Severus couldn't see the heartbreak that lurked just underneath. Silly Severus. He was so predictable. He had expected her to rage at him, but that wouldn't be revenge enough for her this time. He hated himself; he would feel he deserved any words she hurled at him.

So Lily would hurt herself instead, and it would be his fault for tampering with her potion, and that would twist the knife deeper than any insults she could yell.

She winked at him. Then, before either Severus or the examiner could stop her, she swallowed the contents of the vial.

She ended up spending two days in the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey regrew her spleen, and missed both her Arithmancy and History of Magic O.W.L.s as a result. Luckily, Professor McGonagall assured her that due to the extenuating circumstances of having nearly blown herself up, she would be allowed to retake the O.W.L.s she had missed during the second week of examinations.

When she emerged from the infirmary on Thursday, it was just in time for dinner in the Great Hall. She sat between Mary and Marlene, who nearly suffocated her in a hug. Towards the end of dinner, she finally glanced over at the Slytherin table. She met Severus' dark eyes immediately. He looked awful; his stringy hair hung in clumps about his face and he was paler than ever. Lily stared at him cooly, daring him to acknowledge her. He looked away in response.

Lily spent the rest of the evening in the company of her friends, who fussed appropriately over her. Marlene, of course, had realized at once what had happened, and in the week that followed, a rumour spread through Gryffindor House that Severus had tampered with Lily's potion.

When curious students asked if this was true, Lily would merely nod before returning to her Arithmancy notes. She wasn't interested in spreading gossip, but she had no problem letting people know the truth.

There was a saying in the Muggle world, after all, that the truth would set you free.

* * *

James Potter came for Severus after their Defence O.W.L., like Severus knew he would. The rumour that he, Severus, had ruined Lily's potion had spread through the school like wildfire, even reaching the ears of his fellow Intents, who by and large had congratulated him on successfully 'putting a Mudblood in her place'. It was too much to hope that the rumour had bypassed James and his friends.

They found him out on the grounds of Hogwarts, behind a cluster of bushes at the edge of the lake.

Even though Severus had been expecting an attack, James managed to Disarm him and Sirius hit him with an Impediment Jinx before he managed to get a curse of his own off. A small group of students noticed the commotion and clustered around to watch. _Come to see the show_ , Severus thought nastily.

"You're so predictable it's pathetic," spat Severus, struggling uselessly against the jinx as James and Sirius loomed over him. "Hexing me when I'm alone, surrounded by sycophants who can back you up… your mother must be so _proud_ to have a son like you."

James levelled his wand at Severus' head. "Leave my mother out of this, Snape."

"I must not have made myself clear," sneered Severus. "I was speaking to Black. You're growing up to be quite the mama's boy, aren't you?" he asked, addressing Sirius, whose grip on his wand tightened. "Cruel streak a mile wide. If I were you, I'd try the Sorting Hat on again, now that you've grown up to be a proper Black —"

Sirius cracked his wand like a whip, teeth bared. Severus felt a searing pain along his back, and he collapsed into the grass.

"My... point... exactly," said Severus through gritted teeth, twitching as he fought to stand up. "Duel me like a wizard and we'll see who wins, you inbred waste of space. _Ventrum mortis. Crus crura_ — let me _up_ , you blood traitor. _Mutatum carnifero_..."

As James had Disarmed him, nothing happened.

"Wash out your mouth," said James coldly. He stepped in front of Sirius, who looked murderous. " _Scourgify_!"

Severus gagged; soap bubbles were rising up his throat and pouring out of his mouth. His hand flew to his throat as he struggled to breathe. Above him, James raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Leave him ALONE!"

Severus' heart stopped. _Lily_. It couldn't be. Surely she had gotten the message after he'd betrayed her, surely she knew to stay away, that trying to save their friendship was futile…

"All right, Evans?" said James.

Lily glared at James. "Leave him _alone_. What happened is between me and him. I don't need you intervening on my behalf, like some knight in shining armour…"

"Rest easy, Evans," said Sirius. "I can't speak for James here, but _I'm_ acting on motives entirely my own. You don't factor into it."

"Is that right?" asked Lily, hands on her hips. "What's he done to you, then?"

"Well," said James, pretending to be thinking, "for us it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean. . . ."

Some of the onlookers laughed, and Severus noticed that Mulciber, Lestrange and Bella were watching from a distance. Lestrange's wand was half-raised, as if he wanted to intervene, but Bella's hand rested on his arm, stilling him. She met Severus' eyes and tilted her head, a smile playing around her lips.

Severus cursed inwardly. He'd denounced Lily under Veritaserum, yet she was coming to his rescue. He had to get rid of her somehow — he couldn't afford for the Intents to guess his true feelings.

James and Lily were arguing; they had seemingly forgotten about Severus, allowing him to crawl towards his wand. His fingers closed around the walnut wand, and he pointed it at James, who was still fixated on Lily. _Sectum_ , he thought, aiming at James' face.

There was a flash of light and James stumbled as the skin of his cheek split open, blood speckling his robes and the grass at his feet. Immediately, James turned, and Severus felt the world around him spin as he was hoisted upside-down into the air. _My own hex,_ he thought bitterly, fighting to keep his robes covering his pants. _The bastard hits me with my own hex —_

"Let him down," said Lily, but she didn't look upset at all. Severus felt like he was going to vomit, and he wasn't sure if it was from being hung upside-down in the air or from shame. That Lily, of all people, would see him like this, humiliated —

No sooner had Severus collapsed onto the ground than Sirius hit him with another curse. He froze, cheek pressed into the dirt, unable to move except for his eyes.

Bella, Mulciber and Lestrange had come closer and were standing at the edge of the crowd. Bella's hand had drifted casually towards her side, hovering over her wand, but she shook her head slightly when Severus met her eyes, begging her silently to intervene. She pointed her chin towards Lily, who had begun to argue with James again, and the implication was clear. _Her or us? We can't both be your saviour._

"Take the curse off him!" demanded Lily, who looked like she was ready to pull her own wand out.

James hesitated; then he sighed and pointed his wand at Severus. " _Finite_."

Severus felt the jinx lift. He got unsteadily to his feet and cast an imploring glance at Bella, but she widened her eyes innocently and didn't move. Her voice from months ago rose to the forefront of Severus' mind. He could hear her so clearly it was as if she had used Legilimency. _Honestly, you will have to choose at some point, but it will be easy._

He should have known that she had been lying to him. It was never going to be easy.

"That's better, isn't it?" James asked Severus, eyeing him with distaste. "You're lucky Evans was here to save you, Snivellus —"

All the rage and humiliation of that afternoon welled up in Severus, and the words poured out of him unbidden. "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

There was a beat. A couple of the students whispered to each other, and James raised an eyebrow. Behind him, Bella was smiling as she drew her wand.

Lily was staring at Severus as if she was seeing him for the first time. "Fine. I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, _Snivellus_."

"Apologize to Evans!" shouted James, advancing on Severus. "After all you've put her through, you _dare_ —"

Lily whirled on James, fury blazing in her emerald eyes. "I don't want you to make him apologize! You're as bad as he is!"

"What? I'd NEVER call you a — you-know-what!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch _you didn't even catch_ , hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK." She turned on her heel and stormed away without so much as a glance at Severus.

Mulciber put a hand on Severus' shoulder, but before they could slip away, there was another flash of light. The contents of Severus' stomach rushed into his throat as he flipped upside-down in the air.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" James asked the crowd. Sirius laughed and advanced on Severus, wand raised —

"That's quite enough, dear cousin," said Bella smoothly, stepping forward and levelling her wand at his chest. "I think you've had your fun for today." Mulciber and Lestrange flanked her, wands drawn.

James eyed them warily. He jerked his wand upwards and Severus fell to the ground. "Fine," he said shortly. "Come on, Pad —"

But Sirius was nose-to-nose with Bella now. "I'm not afraid of you," he growled.

Bella laughed. "That's because you're stupid." Before Sirius could react, she flicked her wand and there was a boom like a cannon. Sirius went flying backwards, knocking students out of the way. There was a crunch as he hit a tree and crumpled into a senseless heap.

Bella turned her wand on James. "No more bullying," she said lightly. "You won't much like what happens to Sirius if you do."

James regarded her for a moment before giving a curt nod.

"Let's go," said Bella, putting an arm around Severus and directing him towards the castle. "We'll have a nice dinner in Dungeon Thirteen. We'll celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" said Severus, his mind still on Lily. Salazar's fangs, she'd seen his _pants_ — and he'd called her a —

"You, Sev," said Bella, drawing him closer. "Celebrating you. You chose us. Like I always knew you would."


	12. The Year in Review

Lily Evans was angry.

She was so angry she didn't bother studying for her Arithmancy O.W.L. ("I could do Applied Numerology in my sleep," she told a worried Mary), and she hardly cared when she left large swathes of parchment blank during her History of Magic O.W.L. It was all so ridiculous — why was she being tested on her knowledge of the intricacies of goblin warfare when not a single question so much as alluded to the centuries of anti-Muggle sentiment among pure-blood communities?

She was angry with wizarding Britain and its nearsightedness. She was angry that the world of magic and wonder she had been promised when she was eleven didn't actually exist. Being a Muggle-born witch didn't make her special; it made her a second-class citizen.

Lily was angry about all of these things. Most of all, though, she was angry with herself.

"I've been an idiot," she said. She was sitting cross-legged in bed with Marlene and Parvana. Marlene had brought cheese sandwiches up from the kitchens for lunch.

"I mean," said Marlene, talking around a chunk of sandwich. "You're gonna have to qualify that statement."

Lily gaped at her. "Are you saying I really have been an idiot?"

"I know it's not what you want to hear," said Marlene, "but Severus is scum. And he's been that way for ages. He took advantage of you, over and over. And because you have a kind heart, you kept forgiving him."

"Thanks a lot," said Lily drily. "I know I was being stupid, it's just — he was my _best friend_. Imagine Mary started turning into a Death Eater. What would you do?"

"Probably the same thing you did," said Marlene. "Give her too many chances 'til she broke my heart. I'm not judging you. I get it."

Parvana nodded, but her brow was furrowed. "I do think you shouldn't have taken your Felix Felicis to get back at him," she said quietly.

"Come off it," said Marlene immediately. "That was _brilliant_. You should have seen the look on Snivellus' face after you blew up half the dungeon, Lil."

Parvana frowned. "She could have been seriously hurt though. She _was_ seriously hurt. How is that revenge?"

"I knew what I was doing," said Lily defensively. "It was my potion. I knew the risk I was taking."

"Yeah," said Marlene. "Lil knew Madam Pomfrey'd set her right."

"Even so," said Parvana. She took a bite of sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "You shouldn't hurt yourself to get back at someone else."

"Says the girl who nearly killed herself on the Quidditch pitch just so Ravenclaw wouldn't win the Cup," Lily teased. Parvana's eyes widened, but Lily grinned at her. After a moment, Parvana smiled back.

"I will say this," added Marlene. "Lil, your fingernail clippings are worth more than every bone in Snivellus' body."

"More than those smelly robes he wears, too," said Lily. She tried to sound nonchalant, but as soon as the words left her mouth she could feel herself flushing.

"The bright side — if there is one — is you know where Snape stands now," said Parvana. "Think of how long things could have dragged on if he were a better liar. At least you can go home for the summer and get some space from him."

Lily groaned and flopped back onto the bed. "We're from the same town, Parvana. He's practically my neighbour."

Parvana started to respond, but there was a bang as the door of the dormitory burst open, cutting her off. Mary strode in, carrying a large purple-and-white bouquet. "We have a situation," she announced, dropping the flowers on Lily's bed.

"I'll say," said Marlene, twirling a violet hyacinth sceptically between her fingers. "Are these from James, or —"

"Worse," said Mary. She plucked Marlene's sandwich off the bed and took a bite. "And there's more where that came from. A certain Slytherin named, quote, Snivellus Snake, end quote, is currently standing outside Gryffindor Tower, wanting to —"

Marlene's eyes darkened. " _Don't_ say apologize."

"You've got it!" said Mary.

"Great," said Marlene. "Because clearly a bouquet of bloody hyacinths makes up for destroying someone's independent study and then calling them a, well, you know…"

"Mudblood," said Lily dully, staring at the ceiling. Marlene and Parvana cringed.

Mary made a sympathetic face and patted Lily's hand. "I know this is so unfair, Lily, but he says he doesn't care how long he has to wait, he wants to talk to you and he'll sleep outside the common room if he has to —"

Lily let out an exasperated sigh. "He's so dramatic. He spent all year avoiding me, but now that I'm done with him, he won't leave me alone. _Classic_ Severus. Eurgh." She groped for her wand on her bedside table. " _Incendio_."

Immediately, the flowers around her caught fire, and Mary leapt off the bed with a shriek. Parvana got up rather more gracefully, offering Marlene a hand.

"Nice," said Marlene, pulling out her own wand and sending a stream of water towards the smoking remains of the flowers. " _Evanesco_."

The ashes vanished, and Lily rolled over, eyeing Marlene imploringly. "Do I have to talk to him?"

"You can do whatever you want," said Marlene. "Let him sleep in the corridor, for all I care. It's no less than what he deserves."

Lily groaned. "I should tell him to go away. He really will sleep out there."

"You see?" said Parvana. "He's punishing himself to get back at you, that's not healthy, it's —"

"Okay, okay, point taken," said Marlene. She smoothed Lily's hair affectionately. "Look, if you wanna talk to him, then do it. But if he doesn't bugger off, you have my permission to turn him into a newt."

"A newt would be an improvement," grumbled Lily, but she stood up and pulled on her nightgown. "At least they're not _dramatic_."

Sure enough, Severus was waiting for her in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, wringing his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said before she had even climbed out of the portrait hole.

"I'm not interested."

"Lily, please — I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. For all of it. For taking your potion, for —"

Lily's eyes narrowed. " _Taking_ my potion?"

"Stealing it, then," amended Severus.

"Ruining it."

"Yes," said Severus hastily. "That too. Ruining it."

"Great," said Lily. "You're sorry. Can I go back to my dormitory now?"

"Lily," he said, twisting the sleeves of his ratty robes. "As soon as I… when I called you — what I called you — I knew I had made a mistake, it was just… my friends were there, and —"

God, she should have expected this. Of course he was blaming what had happened on Mulciber. Heaven forbid Severus admit his behaviour was no-one's fault but his own. Lily inhaled deeply, trying to maintain her calm. "Excuse after excuse, Sev. I'm tired of hearing it, so you can save your breath, alright?"

"I'll do better," he said. "I'll tell them all I've changed my mind — I'll tell Mulciber…"

Lily laughed, though she didn't find the situation particularly funny. "You don't get it, do you, Sev?" she asked. "Our friendship is _over_. You can tell Mulciber whatever you want, but I'm not going back to being mates with you. _Ever_."

"You can't mean that," he said. "After all we've been through —"

"I do mean it," said Lily. "It's over. I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done. I'm so sorry for the potion, and I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just —"

"Slipped out, did it? Couldn't handle the peer pressure?"

"That's not — if you forgive me, I'll —"

"No," she said coldly. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years — none of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends, and all your plots and schemes —"

"I swear, I'll tell them —"

"You know," said Lily, her voice rising, "if someone referred to me as a Death Eater, I'd do them over. But you — you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

Severus looked at her imploringly, but she met his gaze without blinking. She wasn't going to let him wriggle his way out of this one. Finally, he dropped his head, ashamed.

"I can't pretend anymore," said Lily. "We both know there's a war coming. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

"Don't say that — you said you wouldn't fight..."

"I've changed my mind," she hissed. "My place in this war was decided by Death Eaters like you, Sev, and I will fight against all you stand for until my last breath."

"No — listen, I didn't mean —"

"—To call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

Severus' face started to wrinkle. God, he wasn't about to _cry_ , was he? She climbed back into the portrait hole before he could speak.

As the painting swung shut, Lily pulled out her wand, aiming it directly at his chest. "I've sworn to Marlene that I'll turn you into a newt if you try talking to me again," she said. "So _leave me alone_."

* * *

That Saturday, Lily spent the evening patrolling the castle for the last time as a fifth-year prefect. The corridors lay dark and quiet; most students were busy packing or lounging in their common rooms.

A suit of armour at the end of the second floor corridor tipped over with a crash, startling her. She pulled out her wand without a second thought, but before she could mutter a spell, Remus Lupin stepped around the fallen knight, holding his hands up.

"Sorry about that, Lily," he said pleasantly. "Awfully clumsy of me." He pointed his own wand at the suit of armour, righting it, and fell into step beside her. "Nice night for a patrol, isn't it? Mind if I join you?"

Lily shrugged. "If you want. I'm sort of in a mood."

"I've been known to get those myself from time to time," said Remus as they rounded a corner. "I find chocolate usually helps."

Lily smiled a little. "That's something I'm looking forward to having at home. Actual chocolate, the kind that doesn't move or scream or turn into something else when you take a bite of it…"

"Toblerone's my favourite," said Remus. "It never screams. Very predictable."

Lily glanced at him. "You've had Muggle chocolate?"

"'Course I have," he said. "My mum was a Muggle. I thought you knew that."

Lily suddenly couldn't breathe. It was as if an invisible hand had grabbed hold of her heart and squeezed. She and Remus were the only ones in their year to have lost parents; it was one of the reasons she'd always felt a sense of solidarity with him. How could she have forgotten his mum was a Muggle?"

"Shit," she said. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I didn't remember… that she was..."

Remus' eyes were murky green and soft, like moss at the base of a tree. "Lily. It's fine. You've had a lot on your plate recently — I don't exactly expect you to go around memorizing my family's blood status on top of everything."

"It's _not_ fine," she said firmly. "It matters."

Remus looked a little surprised. "Why?"

"Because — it means you're a half-blood, like me. I mean, not _exactly_ like me, because I'm a —" She was really not explaining herself well. "It's something we have in common, that's all. I shouldn't have forgotten."

Remus hummed a little. "I don't think you ought to put so much weight on blood status. I mean, for all intents and purposes, I might as well be a pure-blood. My mum died when I was eight, and even before she did, we were a magic household far more than a Muggle one. I don't think I even rode in a car — a proper, Muggle car — until I was on my way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters for the first time."

"Oh," said Lily, somewhat abashed. She'd thought their upbringings had been similar, with magic in the periphery. "I guess I assumed you grew up more or less the same way I did."

Remus shook his head. "My childhood resembled Peter's, or James', far more than yours. It had to."

Lily wasn't sure what he meant by that last bit. "I see."

They continued along the corridor without speaking, Lily lost in her own thoughts.

Remus broke the silence first. "I think you should be proud to be a Muggle-born."

"Yeah," said Lily sarcastically, "I'm very proud that a bunch of people I've never met hate me because I was born. So proud to be the butt of jokes, to be called names…"

"That's not what I meant," said Remus. "Being a Muggle-born is like knowing a foreign language, or something. It's an insight into a different culture that not many wizards have."

Lily bit her lip. "I'd rather only speak Magic and be done with it."

Remus looked at her for a moment, a thin line appearing between his eyebrows. "I'm sorry about Severus," he said finally. "What he did was wrong. There's no excuse for it."

To Lily's embarrassment, she felt her eyes filling up with tears.

"Oh, no," said Remus. "I'm sorry, Lily, I didn't mean —"

"No," she said thickly, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just — I think you're the first person to apologize for what Severus did and mean it. I only — I wish he could have done the same."

Remus sighed deeply. "I wish so as well, for your sake." As they descended the stairs to the first floor, Lily furtively tried to dry her face and appear normal. Remus was watching his own feet as he walked; he appeared to be debating something with himself.

"Is there something you'd like to share?" she asked, bumping his shoulder with her own. She was determined to act as if she hadn't just burst into tears.

Remus rubbed his mouth and nodded. "Yes, actually. I don't know if you noticed, but Sirius and I had a bit of a falling-out this term. To make a long story short, he did something that hurt me very badly. It ruined my trust in him."

"Oh, really?" said Lily. "You're still mates, though, aren't you? You two looked pretty chummy in the common room last night, messing around with that expanding trunk of yours..."

"Yeah, we made up," said Remus. "I forgave him. But only because he genuinely apologised. When he said he was sorry, he meant every word."

"That's... "

"Surprising?" Remus gave her a wry smile.

"I mean… a little. Just knowing Sirius, he's not exactly in touch with his emotions, is he?"

"That's the understatement of the century," said Remus. "I told myself I'd only forgive him if he apologised. I figured it would never happen. I was as surprised as you were."

"I'm glad he did," said Lily. "You two are good for each other."

Remus tugged at his shirt collar and looked away from her. "Er — right. Anyway. I guess what I'm getting at is I've been where you are. I'm sorry you had to lose a friend this year, too."

He gave her a little smile and patted her twice on the shoulder. The gesture was so awkwardly boyish that she laughed and hugged him, her face pressing into his jumper. He'd gotten taller than her; when had that happened? After a moment, Remus hugged her back.

"You big softie," Lily mumbled into the wool of his jumper.

"They don't call me Remus 'Bleeding Heart' Lupin for nothing," he replied, disentangling himself from her. "Everything's going to be okay, Lily. I promise."

"Even if there's a war, and my best friend's on the other side?"

"Even so," said Remus. "You're worth ten of him, so keep your chin up."

"People keep telling me that. I —"

A rustle sounded from inside a nearby classroom, and Lily jumped. Remus pulled out his wand and raised his eyebrows at Lily. "Peeves the Poltergeist or a couple of shagging Ravenclaws, what do you think?"

"My money's on Peeves," she said. "Ravenclaws are too smart to make noise past curfew."

"Bold statement," said Remus. "It's up to us prefects to find out." He tapped his wand on the door handle. There was a faint click and the door creaked open.

Lily grinned and followed him inside.

* * *

The Induction took place at midnight on the last day of term. The centre of Dungeon Thirteen was conspicuously empty; the usual cushions, tea tables and chairs had been relegated to the sides of the room. At the far end of the dungeon, in three high-backed white chairs, sat Bella, Lucius and a third, heavyset Death Eater with tanned skin. They faced the Intents like a panel of judges.

"Please sit," said Lucius as the Intents filed in. He gestured at the row of chairs lining the opposite end of the room from the Death Eaters. Severus mentally berated himself as he took a seat between Mulciber and Avery, who were both wearing finely tailored black robes — he wished he had thought to wear dress robes. He wished he _owned_ dress robes. One day.

"I trust you have remembered to bring your pledges," said the third Death Eater, whose voice sounded gravelly and vaguely familiar. "We will now accept them as a token of your dedication to the brotherhood."

"Evan Rosier," said Bella sweetly, "would you like to go first?"

"Erm, yes, ma'am," said Rosier. He stood up, adjusted his robes — his expensive, silken dress robes — and strode forward to stand in front of the judges. He pulled a small grey cube out of his pocket and levelled his wand at it. The cube grew larger and larger until Severus could see that it wasn't a cube at all, but a cage, containing —

"A Rougarou," said Rosier. "My father and I went hunting in America over the Easter holidays and we managed to capture one. I thought the Dark Lord might find some use for it."

Severus stared at the creature, repulsed. Its body was humanoid, but it had the head of a massive, slavering dog. It thrashed against the bars of its cage, its jaws open, but no sound came from its mouth. Its eyes were rolling madly, and yet — they looked almost human. Something about the irises. _Like the eyes of the werewolf_ , Severus thought.

Lucius nodded appreciatively, and Bella let out a low whistle. "Impressive," she said. "If you'll allow us to confer…"

The three judges bent their heads together, whispering. Finally, Lucius turned towards Rosier. "We accept your pledge," he said. "Welcome to the brotherhood, Evan Rosier."

Lucius gestured towards Bella, who stood and held up a dark cloak with a large hood, which she draped over Rosier's shoulders. She fastened the silver clasp around his neck, which was in the shape of a skull with the tongue of a serpent. Rosier bowed low in front of the Death Eaters before returning to his chair, where he sat with his hood up.

Wilkes went next, presenting the judges with a string of shrunken heads which were capable of stealing a person's voice. After him came Rabastan Lestrange, whose knees shook the entire time, and then Mulciber, who had brought an assortment of valuable heirlooms from his family's vault. The third Death Eater looked especially pleased with Mulciber's pledge, and Severus suddenly realized why he seemed so familiar; he was the spitting image of Mulciber.

After Mulciber came Avery, who merely donated a decent amount of gold, insipid dullard that he was. Severus rather thought that Bella was fighting not to yawn throughout Avery's entire pledge.

Finally, Severus was the last one left. All the other Intents were wearing their hooded cloaks.

"I've got something a bit different prepared," said Severus, standing up. "Bella, if you would…"

Bella nodded and raised her wand. Three different pelts appeared between Severus and the judges, hanging in the air as if suspended by invisible tacks.

"This first hide," said Severus, touching the pelt on the far left, "is werewolf fur. Notoriously resistant to most forms of spell-casting. Bella, if you were to fight a werewolf, which spell would you use?"

"The Killing Curse," she said instantly, and the Intents laughed. Even Lucius let out a small chuckle.

"Let me rephrase that," said Severus. "Say the Dark Lord has tasked you with _subjugating_ a werewolf. How would you do this?"

"That would be difficult," said Bella. "Werewolf fur is so magically resistant that most spells are ineffective. Even the Cruciatus will only tickle it."

"Would you care to demonstrate?"

"Absolutely," said Bella, drawing her wand. " _Reducto_. _Stupify. Confringo._ "

The werewolf pelt absorbed each spell with ease; the Blasting Curse vanished into it with a muffled thump, and the fur swayed gently, as if moved by a breeze.

"See? Ineffective," said Bella, laying her wand delicately across her lap.

"Exactly," said Severus. "Hence the need for my spell." He slashed his wand through the air, like he was wielding a sword. " _Sectumsempra!_ "

There was a flash of light, and then the pelt lay in ribbons at his feet.

"Giant skin and troll hide are similar, aren't they?" continued Severus. He touched the two remaining hides that hung in the air. "Known to be resistant to magic. Well, no more. _Sectumsempra._ "

The giant skin and troll hide rent open instantly, joining the werewolf pelt in pieces on the ground. Lucius' mouth was slightly open, and Severus allowed himself to feel a small rush of pride.

"This is my pledge to the brotherhood," said Severus. "We will not be defenceless against these Dark creatures."

"I see," said Lucius slowly. "Allow us to confer." He turned towards Bella and Mulciber's father, but their whispers lasted only a moment.

"Severus Snape," said Lucius. "It is unanimous: we accept your pledge. Welcome to the brotherhood."

Bella rose, beaming, to drape a cloak over Severus' shoulders. The cloak was heavy and well-made; it was likely more expensive than every article of clothing he owned combined. Bella reached for the clasp, but Severus put his hands over hers, and she stilled. He fastened the clasp himself.

As Severus returned to his seat, Lucius stood up. "You all have done well," he said. "As of tonight, you are Secondaries. Rabastan" —Lestrange nearly tripped over his robes in his haste to stand up— "tomorrow marks the end of your Hogwarts career. Would you like to fight on the front lines for us?"

"I would be honoured, sir," said Lestrange, bowing deeply.

"I will expect you at Malfoy Manor during the new moon, then," said Lucius. "As for the rest of you — the Dark Lord requires you to finish your schooling at Hogwarts. Over the summer, you will await further instructions. You are not to tell anybody you have become Secondaries. If you do, we will know, and the consequences will be… unpleasant. Do I make myself clear?"

Severus and the other Intents — Secondaries _,_ now— nodded, and Lucius smiled widely.

"Congratulations," he said. "You will not regret joining the brotherhood."

Bella stopped Severus in the corridor before he could follow his housemates back to the common room. "I'm leaving tonight with Lucius," she said.

"I see," said Severus. "So you won't be taking the train tomorrow?"

"Waste of time," she said loftily, adjusting her robes. "Like so much in this castle."

"I suppose," said Severus, looking carefully at her. She was still taller than him, but not by much. Though her hair added a few extra inches. "Thank you for getting those pelts for me. And for… well. For everything, I guess."

"It's been a pleasure," she said, giving him a small smile. "Everything gets better from here, Sev. Just wait till next year. Or, better, wait until you're out of school. You'll see."

"I suppose I will."

"Last thing," said Bella. She grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. Severus felt a familiar sensation at the back of his mind, and he nearly smiled. Then he showed her what she wanted to see.

Memories of Lily flashed in his mind, tinged with nostalgia but not regret. Their recent row outside Gryffindor Tower, where he'd begged her forgiveness, where he swore he'd abandon the Dark Arts, didn't feature at all. Lily, it would seem, was a childhood sweetheart he had outgrown. Nothing more.

It wasn't the truth; but then, Bella wasn't looking for the truth.

"Good," she said, releasing him. "You're ready. I'll miss you, Severus."

 _No, you won't._ Severus raised a shoulder, noncommittal. "Something tells me I'll be seeing you again."

* * *

Just like that, the term was over, and James was packing the last of his things into his trunk and saying goodbye to the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He, Sirius and Peter managed to find an empty compartment at the back of the Hogwarts Express. Remus joined them after finishing his patrol of the train. "Snape's sharing a compartment with Mulciber and his gang," he said, taking a seat beside Peter. "They're all looking quite pleased about something or other."

"'Course they are," said James. "Snivellus called Evans a Mudblood in front of the entire school after putting her in the hospital wing. I'm sure they're patting themselves on the back while plotting who they can humiliate next."

"It's weird, isn't it?" asked Peter. "Having schoolmates who actually think What's-His-Name's doing the right thing?"

"Nah, it's not," said Sirius, stretching his long legs across the compartment. "Spend the summer with my family and you'll see. Plenty of people think Whoever-He-Is has got the right idea."

James recognized that Sirius was about to start ruminating on his upcoming summer with his terrible family, and he began to cast about frantically for a change of subject. "Er," he said, "y'know, I'd never really thought about it before, but _do_ we know who he is? This great evil wizard everyone talks about in hushed tones, I mean."

"I haven't the foggiest," said Peter, and Remus shook his head.

"Isn't that the point?" said Sirius, seeming determined not to be pulled out of his foul mood. "If nobody knows anything about him, he's got plausible deniability. Maybe he's just a figment of our imaginations, and the Muggles are killing themselves off."

Peter snorted. "That's likely."

The compartment door opened, and Parvana tumbled in, followed by Marlene and Mary, who was dragging Lily by the hand.

"Budge up!" said Marlene, nearly falling into Sirius' lap. "Make some room, fellas, you know what time it is…"

Sirius groaned. "The Year in Review?"

"That's right!" said Mary brightly. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," mumbled Peter, whose face was being squashed into the window as Mary squeezed into the seat next to him.

"We've got everyone, right?" asked Lily, counting heads. She seemed to skip over James' wild mop of hair entirely.

"I think so," said Parvana. She settled herself beside James, their thighs touching.

"Great," said Marlene, clapping her hands together. "Now we can start. Alright, fifth-year Gryffindors — show of hands, who here had an excellent year?"

Mary and James raised their hands immediately, followed by Peter and Parvana. After some consideration, Remus put his hand in the air as well. Lily's hands remained clasped in her lap, and Sirius was staring out the window, arms folded.

James kicked Sirius in the shins. "What do you mean, you didn't have an excellent year, you great lump? Just because you're mopey _now_ , doesn't mean —"

"Three words," snapped Sirius. "The entire month of April. Sound familiar?"

"That's five words," said Remus. "Seven, if you count the second sentence."

Sirius began to make a rude hand gesture at Remus, but Marlene caught his arm.

"Not in the spirit of the game!" she said. "Let's focus here. So five of us had an excellent year, six counting me. Six over eight is…" she scrunched her face up, calculating. "Alright, that's an Acceptable, I'll take it. Next question: did we win the Quidditch Cup?"

"We did!" cheered Mary. Peter let out a loud whoop. James made a show of taking a bow, and nudged Parvana, who blushed as the rest of the compartment applauded.

"We certainly did," said Marlene, motioning for the others to quiet down. "For the first time in nearly a decade. All thanks to one inspired Captain and our brilliant Seeker. And myself, of course," she added as an afterthought. "So I'll give us full marks in the 'Quidditch' category. Next: did we win the House Cup?"

"Well," said Remus with the air of someone trying to head off a confrontation, "we weren't _last_ —"

"Third place is our best yet," added James. "Let's not forget that."

Marlene and Mary rolled their eyes at each other, and Parvana sighed.

"I don't get it," said Lily. "Sure, you lot get loads of detentions, but you earn a fair amount of points, too. Not to mention _we won the Quidditch Cup_. How did we end up _third_?"

"Two words," said Sirius. He was still facing the window, but there was a slight smirk playing around his lips. "We got carried away with the expanding trunk."

"Technically," said Remus, "that's eight —"

"Oh, God," said Lily. "You didn't —"

"Unfortunately, we did," said James, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It turns out there is a limit to Undetectable Expansion Charms. And it turns out we found that limit. In McGonagall's office."

"Remus John Lupin," said Lily, rounding on him, "Don't tell me that racket we heard while on patrol —"

Remus did his best to look shamefaced. "I was charged with distracting the prefects on duty. Which happened to be me and you."

"I don't believe it," said Lily. "I thought you were spending time with me because you enjoy my company."

"It's not mutually exclusive," said Remus. "We had quite a nice night, didn't we?"

"Careful, Lupin, you'll make James jealous with that kind of talk," warned Marlene, and James reached across the aisle to shove her good-naturedly. "So third in the House Cup nets us a Poor, which is up from the Dreadful of previous years, so I'll allow it. Last category — and this is the one I'm most disappointed with you all on — _romance_."

Sirius seemed to perk up at that. "I snogged Daisy Hookum. I did my part."

"You didn't _snog_ Daisy Hookum," said Peter scathingly. "You closed-mouth kissed her. That's not snogging."

"Yeah, well, I would have snogged her, if I hadn't had to keep a lea—"

"Alright, alright," said James. "Look, Marly, I'm sorry we keep letting you down as far as romance goes. But there's been, er, extenuating circumstances that have prevented us from snogging girls to our heart's content for the past couple of years."

"I told you," Lily muttered to Mary, who giggled. "They're all snogging each other."

"Evans —" said James, but he stopped short when she glared at him. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. There was no point explaining why they'd been carrying leaves around in their mouths since the middle of third year. It would just complicate things.

"I snogged someone," volunteered Parvana. Her blush seemed to deepen as she spoke. "Bertram Aubrey. It was after Hufflepuff lost."

"A pity snog?" asked Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

"I still think it counts," said Parvana, and Marlene nodded.

"Peter and I snogged, too, after we won the Quidditch Cup," said Mary. Everyone turned to stare at her, Peter included. "You might not remember," she told him. "You'd had a lot of Sirius' drinks. But it happened. So I guess that counts."

"I… I remember," stammered Peter. "I just didn't think —"

"You've been holding out on us, Pete!" roared Sirius, leaning across the aisle to smack Peter on the shoulder. "I can't believe you've gotten more action than I have."

"Right," said Marlene, "so three snogs —"

"Two snogs and a closed-mouth kiss," corrected Remus, widening his eyes innocently as Sirius turned towards him.

"Another P, unfortunately," said Marlene, shaking her head.

"That's just dismal," said Lily. "We did better in second year. And we were _twelve_ then."

"At least we did well in Quidditch," said Marlene. "I expect us to get the House Cup next year, though."

"Second place or bust!" cheered James, and Mary applauded.

Remus stood up, stretching. "I'll get us a round of Chocolate Frogs. Who wants to come with?"

The Hogwarts Express was pulling into Platform Nine and Three Quarters by the time they had all finished their Chocolate Frogs. Lily and Mary excused themselves to change into their Muggle clothes, and the other girls trickled out of the compartment as the train slowed to a stop.

James' mother and father were waiting for him partway down the platform, sitting on a bench. He spotted his dad's shock of white hair first, as untidy as his tangled curls, and felt a sudden peal of joy reverberating through his body. It was like someone had rung a bell in his heart. Beside his father was his mum, wearing a royal blue sari embroidered with an impossibly detailed version of the Milky Way. Thousands of tiny constellations wheeled across the silk, following routes he only vaguely knew from Astronomy. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful.

"Mum," he called. "Dad!"

His parents turned at the sound of his voice, and he ran towards them, not caring that he was sixteen and maybe too old to love them so much. He gave them both a long hug — his mother smelled warm, like vanilla — before turning back to say goodbye to his friends.

It was then that he realized that Platform Nine and Three Quarters was not as he'd remembered it. At the far end of the platform stood a crowd of parents dressed in Muggle clothing. They were surrounded by wizards wearing dragonhide leather with crimson robes draped over their shoulders.

"Dad," said James slowly, "are those —"

"Aurors," replied Fleamont Potter, nodding solemnly.

"Why are they here?"

"Protection, I'd assume."

Sirius caught James' eye and strolled over, hands in his pockets. "You've noticed too, eh?" he said, jerking his head towards the Aurors. "Clearly, we've missed something while we've been away. Maybe we should start reading the _Prophet_."

"Maybe," said James. Lily had walked up to one of the Aurors, trunk in tow, and was asking him something. The Auror looked sceptical, and Lily produced a slip of paper from her bag for him to examine. After a moment, the Auror nodded and stepped aside. A plump woman with auburn hair pushed her way to the front of the crowd, and Lily threw her arms around her. As they embraced, the Auror watched them warily, one hand hovering over his wand holster.

"Protection," repeated James. "Dad, who are the Aurors supposed to be protecting? Them, or us?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" said his father, clapping a hand on James' shoulder. "Come on, son. Let's get you home."

* * *

 **A/N:** So ends year 5! If you've made it this far, thanks so much for sticking with the story, and enjoy year 6!


	13. The Dog Days of Summer

Being able to turn into a dog at will had done wonders for Sirius Black's relationship with his family.

At the start of the summer holidays, after a particularly vicious argument with his mother, Sirius had stormed out of Grimmauld Place, transformed into Padfoot, and promptly shat on the troll-skin doormat.

Regulus found him later that evening in the park across the street, dragging his heels in the dirt as he sat in one of the swings.

"Mum's furious, you know," said Regulus. "That doormat was made from the hide of Bladbog the Basher. It's worth thousands."

"Can't prove it was me," said Sirius. "I don't own a dog."

"Right," said Regulus sarcastically. "I'm sure Mum has absolutely no idea who it might have been." He sat in the swing beside Sirius and twisted back and forth in the seat.

"I can't do this for another two months," Sirius said suddenly. "Listening to her tirades against Muggles every night over dinner. As if it isn't _her_ fault we live in the middle of non-magical London instead of Stoke St Pure-blood."

Regulus nearly smiled. "It _would_ be nice to discuss something new once in a while."

Sirius tipped his head towards the sky, which was awash with the last orange rays of the setting sun. "What do normal families chat about, d'you reckon?"

"Beats me," said Regulus. "The state of their neighbours' gardens, maybe?"

Sirius snorted. "Even if Mum wasn't a madwoman, I can't see her caring too much about number eleven's hydrangeas."

"That's a crepe myrtle," said Regulus, craning his neck towards the row of houses. "Hydrangeas grow on bushes."

"Look at you," said Sirius. "So cultured. No wonder Mum's so proud."

A flush crept up Regulus' pale neck. "What are you going to do about her? About both of them?"

"Dunno," said Sirius. "Considering offing myself. That'll show them."

"It's half a year until you're of age," Regulus pointed out. "Offing yourself seems a little premature."

"Fair point," said Sirius. "Think I'll go with Plan B, then."

And before Regulus could open his mouth to ask what Plan B was, there was a rustle at his side and Sirius vanished, replaced by an enormous, shaggy black dog.

Regulus practically jumped out of his swing. "Good lord, Sirius," he said, which was about the strongest language Sirius had ever heard him use. "Don't tell me you've gone and —"

The dog panted happily, tongue lolling out of its mouth, and then Sirius was stretching his long arms towards the sky, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Plan B," he said. "We'll tell them you got a dog. You were meant to surprise them with it over dinner, but your irresponsible older brother startled the poor beast, and it defecated on the doormat —"

"Not on your life," said Regulus. "That's not a _dog_ , Sirius, that's a hellhound. They won't fall for it."

"Sure they will," said Sirius. "They can't say no to you, Reg. Tell them I've run away, and that Padfoot here is a very good boy —"

"Padfoot," repeated Regulus shakily. "You've named your dog self Padfoot."

"'Course I did," said Sirius, and though he was smiling, his eyes were dark. "Our dear sweet mum tells me daily I'm a walking nightmare who's brought ruin to the family name. What else would I be, except a Grim?"

* * *

Walburga Black was none too happy that Regulus had adopted a dog, but as Sirius had predicted, she wasn't able to say no to her youngest son. And so life at Grimmauld Place improved for Sirius.

He spent most of his time as Padfoot in Regulus' room, appearing in human form only for meals and vanishing up the stairs afterwards, before either one of his parents could bait him into an argument. Life was simpler as Padfoot; he didn't care much about anything that wasn't sleeping or eating. Most days, he was content to curl up on Regulus' bed while Regulus sketched in his journal or read a book.

Lazy days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Walburga and the dog maintained an uneasy truce, and Kreacher began passing it scraps.

All in all, Sirius and his parents might have passed a cordial, uneventful summer together, if only he hadn't met Dorcas Meadowes.

Truth be told, it wasn't even her he was attracted to, at first; it was her motorbike.

It was an unseasonably hot day in July, the kind of day where sweat seemed to soak his shirt the moment he set foot outside. Regulus had been puzzling over a Transfiguration essay for the better part of the morning, leaving Sirius utterly bored, so he decided to sneak out of Grimmauld Place, intent on trying a cigarette from the Muggle off-licence on the corner.

He hadn't even gone as far as the park when he saw the motorbike leaning against the kerb, all sleek black and gleaming chrome. He'd never seen anything like it before. They'd had a lesson on autos in Muggle Studies, but this was something different. It was like a broomstick with wheels.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer."

A girl about his age was standing in front of him, one hand on her hip and the other holding a large helmet. She had smooth, black skin and fluffy hair that framed her face like a halo.

"Is that yours?" he asked, gesturing towards the bike.

"Nah," said the girl. "I've got the keys, though." She pulled a set of keys out of the pocket of her jeans and jangled them at him.

Sirius did a double take. Not only was she wearing jeans, but she also had on a sleeveless top. Muggle clothes. He'd taken Muggle Studies since third year, and Grimmauld Place was in the heart of Muggle London, but he'd never actually had a conversation with a Muggle before. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Seriously," said the girl. "Cool it with the staring. I'm considering buying you a camera."

Her voice brought Sirius out of his reverie; he laughed and ran a hand through his long black hair. "Wanna buy me a cigarette, instead?"

"Just one?" she asked, a slight crease forming between her brows.

Sirius shrugged. "Or as many as you want. I'm not picky."

"They generally come in packs of twenty, you know."

"Ten for me and ten for you," said Sirius. "Sounds like a plan."

"You can have all twenty," she said. "I don't smoke."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "A good girl, are you?"

"Hardly," she said. "They give you cancer."

"The cigarettes?"

She gave him a look. "What rock did you crawl out from under?"

"I should've mentioned," said Sirius. "I don't get out much."

"That's obvious," said the girl, gesturing at his clothes. She straddled the bike and turned to Sirius, who was still standing on the pavement. "Are you coming or what?"

Sirius grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

She offered him the helmet as he settled behind her on the bike. "Protect that pretty face of yours," she said.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

"I think _you_ think you're pretty."

"Well, I don't need the helmet," said Sirius. "I'm not that breakable."

The girl shrugged and pulled the helmet over her head. "It's your face." She turned the key in the ignition switch and the bike roared to life. It was the most beautiful sound Sirius had ever heard.

"Put your arms around me," ordered the girl, and Sirius complied. He tried very hard not to think about the feel of her hips, or her stomach, or her waist.

"What is this thing called?" asked Sirius in an attempt to distract himself. "It's not an automobile, right?"

The girl's helmeted head swivelled towards him. Sirius couldn't see her expression, but he knew she was giving him another look.

"Remember," he called over the rumble of the engine, "I don't get out much."

"It's a bike," she said.

"No it's not," he said. "I know what a bike is, they're made of hollow metal rods and have foot-pedals that turn the wheels."

"This is a motorbike," she said. "God, are you serious?"

He grinned.

She bought him a pack of cigarettes with a red stripe on the carton, along with a lighter for good measure, and then drove him back to the park. She laughed when he threw up after his third cigarette. He retaliated by pinning her to the ground and tickling her until tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you _crying_?" he asked.

She pushed him off and sat up. "It's sweat."

"Girls don't sweat," he said.

"I'm not a girl," she said with a wink. "I'm a woman."

"That's too bad," said Sirius. "I don't date women. Only girls."

She stretched lazily. "I'm not bothered. I've already got a boyfriend."

"Do you, now. What's his name?"

"Robert," she said. "What's yours?"

"Sirius."

"Bullshit."

"Unfortunately, it's true. Spelt like the star, though. Not the adjective."

"I don't know if I believe you," she said.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't care what you believe. But it is my name."

"You can call me Dorcas," she said. "Spelled like Dorcas."

Sirius let out a laugh before he could stop himself. He held up his hands as she glared at him. "Sorry, sorry."

"Your name isn't any better, you know."

"Mine might actually be worse," said Sirius, giving her a lopsided grin. "Dorcas means 'gazelle' in Greek, did you know?"

"You speak Greek?"

"Yeah, some."

Dorcas sat up and lifted the hair off the back of her neck, fanning herself. "How do you know Greek but you've never seen a motorbike before?"

"There were a lot of gaps in my education."

"I can see that," she said. "Do you speak anything else?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "French and Latin are my best ones. And I can do a bit of Mermish. You?"

"Yeah, some Creole," she said. She folded her arms behind her head and flashed him a smile. "My parents are from the West Indies."

"That doesn't mean anything to me."

"Of course it doesn't." Her smile grew incredulous. "I don't suppose world geography made it into your curriculum."

"Now you're getting it," said Sirius. "Keep your expectations low with me."

They lay on their backs in the park until long shadows fell across the grass, the temperature cooling around them.

Dorcas stood and checked her watch. "I should go. Mum'll want me back."

Sirius got up languidly and offered her his arm. "I'll walk you to your motorbike."

"A gentleman," said Dorcas as she looped her arm through his. "At least your parents taught you manners if nothing else."

Sirius laughed loudly at that. "You have no idea."

"I still haven't decided if I think you're just taking the piss, you know." She swung her leg over her motorbike. "See you around?"

"I hope so," said Sirius.

Dorcas grinned. There was a small gap between her front teeth. "Me too. Night, weirdo."

* * *

Sirius spent the following week waiting for an opportunity to sneak out again. At last, he had a flash of brilliance which resulted in Padfoot having an accident on the oriental rug in the drawing room. This upset his mother and Kreacher enough that they tied Padfoot to one of the cast iron bars of the fence in front of the house.

As soon as his mother had slipped back into Grimmauld Place, Kreacher at her heels, Sirius transformed back into a human. He pulled the now-loose rope over his head and strode out the front gate, towards the park.

Dorcas wasn't there, so he began to wander the nearby streets, on the lookout for anything that so much as resembled a motorbike. After a half hour of searching, he heard a familiar rumble behind him. The noise grew louder and louder until Dorcas pulled up next to him.

"Need a ride, pretty boy?"

"Gladly," he said. He straddled the seat and put his arms around her waist. "Where are we going?"

"It's hot," she said. "I want ice cream. Do you know what that is?"

"Of course."

"Don't 'of course' me, Mr What's-A-Motorbike."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

He could barely hear her response over the roar of the engine. "Never."

Once they reached the ice cream parlour, Dorcas batted her eyes at him. "Want to be a gentleman and treat me?"

"Ah," said Sirius. "Here's the thing. I have no money."

Dorcas pursed her lips, examining him critically. "Your fancy goth outfit says otherwise."

"I wear these clothes because my _parents_ have money," said Sirius. "But they don't trust me with it."

"Fine," said Dorcas, pulling a handful of strangely-shaped coins from her back pocket. "But you owe me."

They ate their ice cream on a bench, thighs touching.

"I think I'm in love," announced Sirius as he bit into his ice cream cone.

Dorcas nudged him. "I have a boyfriend, remember?"

"Not with _you_ , you vain bird," said Sirius. "With your motorbike. It's perfect."

Dorcas laughed. "I told you before, it's not mine."

Sirius nearly dropped the cone in his lap as a thought occurred to him. "Don't tell me it's your boyfriend's."

"God, no," said Dorcas. "It's my dad's." She paused for a moment, staring at her ice cream. "Used to be, anyway. He died last year." She said it casually, but her shoulders tensed as if readying for a blow.

"Merlin," said Sirius, scrambling for words. Emotional support had never been his strong suit. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," said Dorcas. "I miss him."

Sirius had no idea how to respond to that. If one of his parents died, he had a feeling he wouldn't mind at all, and the thought twisted his gut uncomfortably. "What happened?"

"Lung cancer," she said. "He was a smoker."

"Merlin," said Sirius again. He pushed his hair back with a hand. "And I made you buy me cigarettes. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Dorcas. The corners of her mouth curved upwards. "I wanted to buy them for you. Plus you didn't even know cigarettes cause cancer."

"About that," said Sirius. A question had formed in his mind, and he wanted to phrase it delicately, despite generally not being very good at 'delicate'. "Is cancer… can your Healers not… I mean, your doctors, they can't fix cancer?"

Dorcas was frowning at him now. "Come on, weirdo. Don't joke."

"I'm not," said Sirius quickly. "Swear I'm not."

Dorcas regarded him a moment more, a crease between her brows, before responding. "I think they can cure some kinds. Not lung cancer, though."

"Oh," said Sirius. He was well and truly at a loss for words now. Wizards got cancer, too, but it was no more serious than a bad head cold. His own father had come down with a type of bone cancer a few years back, and the Healer at St. Mungo's had simply had him drink a foul-smelling purple potion every morning for a week. It didn't seem right, somehow, that Muggles should still be dying of cancer when wizards had potions that could cure it.

"Do you believe in an afterlife?" asked Dorcas, startling Sirius out of his thoughts.

"Of course," he said.

Dorcas blinked. "Really? You don't seem like the type."

Sirius shrugged. "I don't suppose you've ever seen a ghost?"

"Erm," she said. "Definitely not. Have you?"

"Yeah, loads," said Sirius. "They're kind of boring, though. You're not missing anything."

Dorcas' mouth was slightly open. "You are impressively weird."

"Remind me to invite you over sometime," said Sirius. "You'll see where I get it the minute you set foot in my house."

"No offence, but I hardly know you," said Dorcas. "It's a little soon to meet the parents, don't you think?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "Sneaking you into my house is different than letting you meet my parents. With any luck, you'll never have the misfortune of making their acquaintance."

"Really?" she said. "They're that bad?"

Sirius's grey eyes met her dark ones, and the laughter faded from his face. "Trust me," he said. "Whatever you're thinking, they're worse."

* * *

Dorcas gave him her telephone number after they'd finished their ice cream, and they began to meet whenever he was able to sneak out of Grimmauld Place. This became easier and easier as the summer went on, as both of his parents began to attend frequent meetings in Knockturn Alley. They spoke about these excursions in hushed tones around their sons, always using terms like 'the conference in you-know-where' and 'the donation to you-know-what'. One evening, Regulus managed to overhear their father on a Floo call in his study and whispered to Sirius that night that whatever they were doing involved substantial monetary contributions.

Sirius, for his part, was beyond caring what his parents did with their Galleons, so long as he was still able to spend time with Dorcas. She took him to the cinema to see his first moving picture outside of the old reels Professor Davis had shown during Muggle Studies, and Sirius was able to get them free popcorn by flirting with the boy working the concession stand. The next time they met, she bought him a stack of magazines featuring motorcycles and girls in bikinis, and they spent the better part of an afternoon flipping through them.

One hot weekend in August, Sirius' parents left for a meeting up north, which seemed to be hosted by the same people who organized the meetings in Knockturn Alley. Sirius wasted no time in locking Kreacher in an armoire before leaving Grimmauld Place to call Dorcas in a public telephone box.

"Come over," he said. "My parents are out. Give me an hour to get ready, though."

By the time she'd pulled up on her motorbike, Sirius had managed to undo most of the Muggle-Repelling Charms that lay on Grimmauld Place, though he still hadn't figured out how to make the front door visible to Muggles.

"This is going to sound weird," he said, "but you're going to have to close your eyes and I'll lead you inside."

"That's not nearly the weirdest thing you've ever said," replied Dorcas, peering at the row of houses. "Which one is yours?"

"Number eleven," lied Sirius. He covered her eyes gently with his hands before steering her through the garden and up the steps of Grimmauld Place.

Once inside, he lifted his hands from her face. Dorcas blinked in astonishment. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the huge portraits lining the hallway, whose occupants turned their heads to peer at the newcomer.

"I say," said the portrait closest to the front door — Pollux Black, Sirius' late grandfather. "You have some nerve, young man, bringing a girl like her inside this noblest of residences —"

"Sirius," said Dorcas slowly, staring at the painting, "what the — is that…"

"Right," said Sirius. He took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "Quick primer: magic is real, my family are wizards, and so am I. Those are magical, talking portraits of my lunatic ancestors. Any questions?"

"Bullshit," said Dorcas, but her eyes were wide as saucers as they ascended the stairs, climbing past the decapitated house-elf heads hanging on the wall. "This can't be real. I'm dreaming."

"Afraid not," said Sirius. They reached the topmost landing, and he shouldered open the door to his room. "What do you think?" he asked proudly. "I've been redecorating."

"Erm," said Dorcas. Her eyes wandered over the walls of Sirius' room, which were plastered with pictures from the magazines she had bought him. "Yeah, that's nice. Can we go back to the part where you said you were a _wizard_?"

"Sure, hang on a moment," said Sirius. He picked up his wand from atop his dresser and pointed it at the door. " _Muffliato_." He turned back towards Dorcas, who was staring at him with her brow creased and her mouth slightly ajar. "My brother's in the next room," he explained. "Don't want him overhearing us."

"Did you…" she began. "Did you just do a spell? With your _magic wand_?"

Sirius grinned. "Now you're catching on. Technically, I'm not supposed to do magic outside of school until I'm seventeen, but the Blacks have been flouting the rules and getting away with it for centuries, so no worries. That's because we're a pure-blood family — means we don't have any non-magical blood. Also, there are wizards who hate non-magical people like you. Including my family. Not me, though, because I'm not an idiot like the rest of them." He cocked his head at her expression. "Did you get all that?"

"Magic family," she said, sinking down slowly onto his bed. "Hate people without magic. Also, magic is real."

"Good girl." Sirius nodded his head. "You're getting it."

"I'm totally dreaming," said Dorcas, and she slapped at her cheeks.

"Wait, wait!" said Sirius, taking her hands in his. "None of that, now."

"How can you be magic?" she asked. "How can — how could I live seventeen years and not know magic was real?"

"It's because you're a Muggle," he said. "Non-magic. You're not supposed to know. It's illegal, actually."

"Oh, God," said Dorcas. "I'm going to be arrested by the wizard police."

"Nah." Sirius plopped next to her on the bed. "I've broken the law hundreds of times and gotten away with it. It's not a big deal. That spell I did on the door was technically illegal because I'm underage. Also, I can turn into a dog at will, and that's illegal too because I didn't register myself as an Animagus, but I'm still here, so…"

"You're mental," said Dorcas. "What happens if someone finds out you told me about magic?"

"Nothing. Nobody's going to."

"But what if they do?"

Sirius pulled gently on one of her curls. "In theory, they'd modify your memory. Erase it, sort of. Only your memory of magic, though!" he added at Dorcas' horrified look. "You'd just forget about magic. It'd be like you never came to Grimmauld Place. That's all."

"That's all," repeated Dorcas sarcastically. "Just a little mind erasing, no big deal…"

"It's not going to happen," said Sirius forcefully, taking her hand. "I won't let it."

Dorcas gave him the look he knew so well — half-amused, half-exasperated. "Why'd you even invite me over, Sirius?"

"To snog you senseless," said Sirius immediately. "Why else?"

Dorcas laughed. "Of _course_. You just figured you'd bring me to your _magic house_ and I'd be fine with it and then we'd shove our tongues down each other throats."

"Yeah, that was the plan, more or less."

Dorcas rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Okay. You win."

"Really?"

"Really," she said. "I might as well get something fun out of this."

"That's the spirit," said Sirius. He hooked his hand around the back of her neck and drew her closer. She closed her eyes obediently, and her lashes tickled his cheek. Her lips brushed his, full and soft, and then he was kissing her the way he'd been dreaming of all summer.

"You're sure Robert won't mind?" he murmured against her mouth.

She pulled away from him slightly. "Who's Robert?"

"Erm," he said. "Your boyfriend?"

Her laugh vibrated through his chest. "Robert doesn't exist. I made him up so you wouldn't try to get your leg over me."

"I see." Sirius fiddled with the edge of her shirt. "How's that working out for you?"

"Shut up, weirdo."

They moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to laying in the bed itself and were in the process of getting tangled in the many layers of silk sheets when the door opened. Regulus was standing in the doorway, a thick yellow envelope in one hand and a silver prefect's badge in the other.

"I knocked," said Regulus defensively as Sirius and Dorcas flew apart. "I — erm — my O.W.L.s came, and…" He trailed off, eyes on Dorcas.

"Reg," said Sirius warningly as Dorcas pulled the sheets up around her chest. "Reg, I can explain. Don't —"

"I've seen you with her before," said Regulus shakily. "She's — she's a Muggle, isn't she? And you brought her here? To our house?"

"Reg, this is kind of a private moment, if you haven't noticed, so if we could talk about this later —"

"I covered for you," said Regulus, speaking over him. "I never told our parents you were seeing a Muggle girl."

"Good." Sirius tumbled out of bed and snatched his trousers off the floor. "Because it's none of your business who I go round with —"

"But you brought her here!" said Regulus, voice rising. "Here! Do you have a death wish or something, Sirius? A Muggle! Into _Grimmauld Place_!"

"I brought a HUMAN BEING into Grimmauld Place!" shouted Sirius. "Godric's mane, Reg, you're starting to sound like Mum —"

Regulus folded his arms across his chest. "You don't get it, do you? Don't you know Father put anti-Muggle enchantments all over the house —"

"—Which I lifted to get her in because I'm not an idiot —"

"Yes, you are!" said Regulus. "You didn't think to check your own room for charms, did you?"

Sirius froze, his trousers partway buttoned. Regulus continued. "Mum put a Muggle Detection Charm on your door because you're not half as clever as you think you are! Sneaking out all the time, plastering your walls with pictures from Muggle magazines, leaving those little papers from the cinema lying around everywhere — I could only cover for you so much, there were some things I couldn't hide, and now —"

A loud crack sounded in the hall downstairs, and Sirius went pale.

"Dorcas, you have to go," he said, plucking her shirt from off the floor and tossing it to her. "Now."

Dorcas's dark eyes were wide with fright as she pulled her shirt on. "Sirius," she said, getting out of bed, "what you said before — about the people who will erase my memory —"

"It's not going to happen," said Sirius firmly. He grabbed her by the hand and strode up to Regulus, who was standing in the doorway. "We've got to get her out of here before they see her. Father's office is connected to the Floo network —"

"There's not enough time for that," said Regulus, his head turned as he listened to the noises coming from downstairs. "They're already on the second floor, they'll see us the instant we leave the room —"

"A Portkey, then." Sirius raked his free hand roughly through his hair.

Regulus shook his head. "You know that won't work — not unless you thought to undo the Anti-Portus Hex on the house while you were fiddling with the protective enchantments."

Sirius swore loudly as the footsteps on the stairs grew louder and more insistent. It was hard to believe his mother and father alone could make that much noise between the two of them. Had they brought one of their less savoury friends back with them from the conference?

Regulus snapped his fingers in front of Sirius' face. "Think, Sirius! We don't have time for you to get distracted, you have to find a way to get her out of here, just _think_ —"

Sirius let out a sudden laugh. "I've got it," he said. "KREACHER!"

The house-elf appeared in the bedroom with a crack, looking utterly horrified.

"A Muggle!" croaked Kreacher, wringing his bony fingers. "Young master has defiled the House of Black beyond Kreacher's worst nightmares, he has brought vermin into this most ancient bastion of blood, Kreacher weeps —"

"Shut UP!" shouted Sirius, and Kreacher fell silent, alternating between glaring at Sirius and casting looks of pure revulsion at Dorcas. Dorcas, for her part, was staring at Kreacher with a similar expression.

"Right," said Sirius. "Introductions. Dorcas, this is Kreacher. He's a house-elf. He's also completely swallowed my parents' pure-blood garbage, as you can tell, but he can't disobey a direct order. Kreacher, this is Dorcas. You are not to speak to her."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Dorcas weakly. Her nose wrinkled as if she had just smelled something very bad. Kreacher closed his eyes, apparently in pain from being spoken to by a Muggle, and began to wail.

"Kreacher," said Sirius, raising his voice, "you are to take Dorcas home. You are to make sure she gets there safely and without drawing the attention of any Ministry employees. You are not to tell anyone, including our parents, anything about Dorcas, including where she lives. You are to return to me when I am alone, and I will modify your memory so that you forget that she even exists."

Kreacher's wails rose to full-blown hysterical sobbing. Sirius stared at the house-elf with disgust before turning to Dorcas. "I shouldn't have brought you here," he said. "I'm so sor —"

The door of the bedroom flew open with a bang, sending all of the room's inhabitants hurtling forward. Kreacher dived forward and grabbed Dorcas's arm. She shrieked, but the sound cut off abruptly as they vanished with a crack.

"WHERE IS SHE!" roared Orion, Sirius' father. He pointed his wand back and forth between Sirius and Regulus.

"She's here," said Walburga Black. She stepped into the room, followed by a large, hulking figure wearing a hooded cloak and a mask. "I felt the charm burn, I know he brought her in here —" She froze at the sight of Sirius' unmade bed.

Orion followed her gaze. His haughty features contorted with fury. " _You_ ," he growled, turning on Sirius. "You _dare_ bring Muggle filth into MY HOUSE? You dare let her enter under MY ROOF?"

"Oh, spare me," spat Sirius. "Don't pretend like you're surprised, not if you stuck a bloody Muggle Detection Charm on my door —"

"You shall not speak to your father that way!" shrieked Walburga. Her hand trembled as she pointed her wand at Sirius. "No son of mine —"

"I AM NOT YOUR SON!" yelled Sirius.

Walburga was startled into silence. Sirius pointed his wand back and forth between his parents. "I've had it with this pathetic excuse for a family. I'm leaving."

Walburga halted, her grey eyes wide. "You— you can't leave."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What're you going to do, curse me? Go ahead and try."

Orion lunged for Sirius, who ducked out of the way. The hooded figure in the doorway raised his wand, and a jet of red light streaked past Sirius, burning him as it grazed his shoulder. Walburga screamed and aimed her wand at Sirius, her hand shaking wildly.

Sirius hunched over, and his form distorted until he was replaced by an enormous black dog.

Padfoot snarled, then bolted for the door, knocking Regulus onto the bed. At the door, the hooded figure raised its wand again, but the dog leapt and closed its massive jaws around the figure's neck. The hooded man made a gurgling sound, toppling backwards; the dog scrambled over his body and raced down the stairs.

A streak of light grazed the fur on Padfoot's back and blasted into the wall, sending the decapitated head of Pimsley the House-elf tumbling down the staircase. The dog didn't slow.

It barreled into the drawing room and threw itself into the window, which shattered upon impact. The dog yelped in pain as it flung itself out the window, shards of glass slicing through its fur.

Sides heaving, Padfoot bolted down through the garden of and vaulted the cast iron fence. The dog landed heavily, and drops of blood spattered the pavement under its paws as it raced to the park across the street.

Halfway across the park, the dog's frame elongated into the form of a lanky teenager in a flat-out sprint for his life. Sirius skidded to a halt, panting, at the far end of the park. There, propped up against the kerb, was Dorcas's motorbike.

Sirius hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he clambered atop the bike and tried to switch on the ignition. He jangled the throttle and pushed on the pedals. Nothing happened.

Sirius swore loudly. He needed a key, didn't he?

There was a series of faint pops behind him, followed by shouting. Flashes of wandlight illuminated the park.

"Work, damn you," growled Sirius. He kicked the motorbike, which remained stubbornly silent. The yells were growing louder. "Come on, come _on_!"

A jet of red light narrowly missed his head. Desperate, Sirius drew his wand and brought it down on the handlebars of the motorbike. A shower of golden sparks emitted from his wand, and the bike roared to life.

Sirius jerked forward as it trundled down the street."Oh, good — right, that seems about the speed limit, there…"

But the motorbike continued to pick up speed until it was zooming down the street on its own volition. Sirius gripped the handlebars tightly as the bike blew through crossroads and traffic signals, ignoring them entirely. Faster, impossibly fast, no Muggle vehicle could accelerate like this —

Sirius' skin pulled back from his face, his surroundings a mere blur. He shouted as the bike barreled towards a line of cars stopped at a crossroads. He was going to crash —

With a deafening roar, motorbike reared, and then he was soaring over the cars and past the traffic signal, which was still blinking red. He rose higher, higher, until he was sailing over rooftops and above tall, narrow clusters of buildings.

Sirius let out a whoop and pulled on the handlebars. He urged the motorbike upward until Grimmauld Place vanished among the winking lights of the boroughs far below. He was free.

* * *

A/N: Yahoo, year 6 is finally finished! Took me long enough, didn't it?

Updates will be weekly on Wednesdays. This year is a bit plot-heavy. :)

A couple of warnings for year 6: non-explicit references to child abuse, bullying/physical assault, and characters dealing with the aftermath of trauma.

Of course, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a comment or review! Enjoy!


	14. Potter and Padfoot

The first owl arrived over breakfast.

Lily Evans was stirring sugar into her cup of tea while her older sister, Petunia, nibbled on a bit of buttered toast. There was a soft hooting sound, and the owl swooped in through the open window, an envelope clutched in its talons. It landed with a clatter, nearly knocking over the vase of dahlias that sat in the middle of the table.

Lily had barely steadied the vase before two more owls soared in. One joined the first atop the table and the other perched on the back of Petunia's chair.

Petunia stiffened. Her expression soured.

"Tuney —" said Lily, but it was too late.

" _Birds_ ," spat Petunia, much the same way one would say 'cockroaches'. "Birds in the _jam_." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.

"Did I hear somebody say 'birds'?" Lily's mother poked her head into the kitchen. A paisley handkerchief pulled her wiry copper hair away from her face, and her eyes sparkled with a warmth that belied her age. "Oh, but that _is_ more than usual! What's the occasion, Lily?"

One of the owls let out an offended hoot as Lily pulled the plate of toast out from under its talons. "Erm, O.W.L. results, I think," she said. "Wizarding O-levels."

"You people have _O-levels_?" asked Petunia, wrinkling her nose.

"Tuney, don't say 'you people'," reprimanded her mother. "It isn't polite." She took a seat beside Lily and stroked the nearest owl with a finger.

Petunia crossed her arms. "You always take her side. There are _bird droppings_ on the table and you're getting angry at _me_."

"Well," said Lily, "if you weren't so rude about everything —" Her mother shot her a sharp glance and she broke off, scowling.

"I didn't want breakfast anyway," muttered Petunia. She turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs.

Lily's mum watched Petunia leave, still stroking the owl absentmindedly. "I'll bring her more toast later."

"I'd just as soon let her starve."

"Lily," said her mother sternly. "Be good. It's hard for her to be your sister."

"Yeah, and it's hard for me to be _her_ sister."

"Try to be kind to her," said her mother.

Lily rolled her eyes.

"I saw that, young lady. Your sister will come around. Be patient with her."

"Why should I? She's horrible."

"All the more reason to be patient," said her mother. "Does Petunia seem like a happy person to you?"

"I dunno," said Lily sullenly.

Her mum tickled the owl's belly, and it flapped its wings delightedly. "Petunia compares herself to you and feels inferior."

"I don't see why. We're completely different, she shouldn't —"

"But she does. And can you blame her? You have always had many talents, even as a child, and you're a witch to boot. You are gifted in ways she will never be. It makes her feel ordinary."

"That's not fair, though," said Lily. "I didn't ask to be magical. It just happened."

"Petunia didn't ask to be who she is, either," said her mother.

"Well, she could afford to be a little nicer about it," said Lily.

Her mother smiled, and the soft lines around her eyes grew deeper. "Tuney might not show it, but she loves you. You two will grow out of this quarrelsome phase."

Lily snorted. "I _highly_ doubt —"

"Shall we open your letters?" said her mother. She stopped tickling the owl long enough to remove a thick, cream-coloured envelope from its beak and offer it to Lily.

Lily bit back a retort. She was quite certain Petunia would always hate her, if the previous sixteen years were anything to go by. But she'd had this argument with her mum before, and they never got anywhere.

"Yeah, alright," said Lily at last. She took the envelope and slit it open. Inside was a heavy piece of parchment.

 **ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS**

 ** _Pass Grades_**

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

 ** _Fail Grades_**

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

 ** _Lily Evans has achieved:_**

Ancient Runes - O

Arithmancy - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - A

Potions - E

Transfiguration - E

"Ancient Runes, outstanding," read Lily's mother over her shoulder. "Arithmancy, outstanding. Astronomy… Charms… Lily, this is _fantastic_. You've really worked hard, haven't you?"

Lily smiled as her mother embraced her. "Yeah, I have."

"You got an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, though," said her mother, pulling back and frowning at the letter. "That's like getting a 'B', isn't it? I thought Potions was your favourite subject?"

"Oh," said Lily. Her cheeks grew hot. "Yeah, it is. It's just — d'you remember how Sev and I had a falling out? It's sort of… related to that."

"I never liked that boy," said her mother, which made Lily laugh, because it was blatantly untrue. Her mum had always been fond of Severus, right up until Lily had told her they were no longer mates, at which point her mum had done a complete and total about-face on her opinion of anyone with the last name 'Snape'.

"Well," continued her mum, "an E is still nothing to sneeze at! We ought to celebrate, get you something nice. What would you like?"

"Ice cream," said Lily at once. It was only half past ten but the kitchen was already warm.

Her mum laughed. "I can get you something better than ice cream! What about a new wand? Do witches outgrow their wands?"

"Witches need ice cream," said Lily firmly. "Especially if it's going to be as hot as yesterday, I think I'm sweating already…" She reached towards the jam jar, where one of the owls had deposited its envelope, and pulled the letter out by its corner.

"More post from Hogwarts?" asked her mum.

Lily wiped the jam off the envelope and squinted at the return address, which was now slightly blurred. "This one's from my friend Marlene, I think."

Inside the envelope was a bit of parchment, accompanied by a clipping from the Daily Prophet.

 _Lily,_

 _Tell me it's not as hot in the Midlands as it is in Scotland — never thought I'd look forward to a Hogwarts winter, but there you are._

 _Don't know if you've been following Wizarding politics but I thought you'd find this article from the_ Prophet _interesting. Something to keep an eye on, at least._

 _Write soon, stay safe, and buy me a few Muggle records while you're in Cokeworth, will you? Whatever's popular, I'm not picky. Will pay you back on the train._

 _— Marlene_

 _PS. Have you got your O.W.L. results yet? Mine came last week. Did very well — McGonagall's even set me up an Auror apprenticeship!_

Lily set the letter down, smiling. She and Marlene fundamentally disagreed about what could be considered interesting; an article on Wizarding politics sounded about as dull as Professor Binns' lessons. All the same, she examined the clipping from the Daily Prophet, which had a purple stain in the corner from the jam.

 **Caradoc Dearborn Proposes Latest Muggle-Centric Decree**

Caradoc Dearborn, controversial Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, has brought forward a new bill to the House of Mages. This proposed 'Muggle-born Protection Act' would provide additional layers of security for non-magical members of the wizarding community.

"It is my hope that the Muggle-Born Protection Act will bring a halt to the targeted attacks and disappearances that have plagued wizarding Britain of late," Dearborn told the Daily Prophet. "Half-bloods, Squibs and Muggle-borns and their families must be protected at all costs, and with the full force of the Ministry."

Dearborn became a household name in the '60s, after his Muggle wife suffered a gruesome death — allegedly at the hands of the Knights of Walpurgis, though no charges were ever brought to the Wizengamot. Since then, his single-minded focus on Muggle rights has seen mixed success over the years, and many of his detractors hold that the well-being of Muggles falls outside the scope of the Ministry of Magic.

His previous proposal, the overly-ambitious Squib Rights Act, suffered a crushing defeat in the House of Mages. When asked if this new decree might undergo a similar fate, Dearborn declined to comment.

Lily examined the picture that accompanied the article. A massive, broad-shouldered man was scowling as he climbed the steps to the Ministry of Magic, swatting reporters away with a hand. Instead of the usual Ministry robes, he wore a crisply-tailored suit.

"Is that man a wizard?" asked her mum. "Odd that he's wearing a suit, isn't it?"

"The article makes him sound a bit eccentric," said Lily. She slid the clipping back into its envelope before her mother could read it. She'd never told her mum how bad the situation in the wizarding world was getting, and she wasn't about to start now.

The last owl, still perched on Petunia's vacant chair, gave a soft hoot and extended its leg, where a roll of parchment was tied.

"Another letter from a friend?" asked Lily's mum as Lily undid the string holding the parchment to the owl's leg.

"This one's from Hogwarts, I think," said Lily. The scroll was sealed with red wax bearing the Hogwarts crest. Her mum peered over her shoulder as Lily unfurled the parchment. Hopefully this letter was less controversial than the last.

 _Miss Evans,_

 _Professor McGonagall has informed me of the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, as well as your interest in becoming a Healer. If you are still interested in pursuing Healing as a career, I would like to extend to you the offer of an apprenticeship for this upcoming school year. You can expect to learn the basics of Healing, including the treatment of minor injuries and the dosing and application of simple Healing potions._

 _If you find this arrangement agreeable, please send a reply via owl at your earliest convenience._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Poppy Pomfrey, R.M.W., B.C.H. (Registered Mediwitch, Board Certified Healer)_

"Healing — is that like nursing?" asked her mum.

"Sort of," said Lily. "It's a bit like being a doctor, too. There aren't really nurses or doctors in the Wizarding World, though. They have a different hierarchy."

"My daughter, a Healer," said her mother, pulling Lily into a hug. "I am so proud of you, Lily!"

Lily buried her face in her mum's tangle of hair. Her mother always smelled sweet, like honeysuckle. For a moment, Lily felt as if she were five years old again, utterly safe and full of love. Her throat tightened. "I wish dad were here for this."

Her mother drew her arms tighter around Lily. "He'd be telling everyone we know that his daughter got 9 O.W.L.s."

Tears pricked Lily's eyes, and she smiled into her mum's shoulder. "He'd be breaking the Statute of Secrecy left and right, then."

"And he wouldn't care one bit." Lily's mum pulled back, the corners of her eyes red. She reached out and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind Lily's ear. "It's a quarter to eleven. Shall we go to the ice cream parlour?"

Lily grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

James Potter was practising Quidditch manoeuvres on his Comet 260 in the back garden of his parents' summer home in Norfolk when the handle of his broomstick began to vibrate.

James swung himself upright and paused, listening. A low growl rumbled through the air. It sounded like the engines of the aeroplanes Muggles flew, but the sky was clear, save for the occasional fluffy cloud.

The rumble grew louder and louder until it was thunderous, resonating through James' chest. He squinted; a dark blur was streaking over the trees at the edge of his parents' property, barreling towards him.

James pulled down on the handle of his broomstick and dove forward just as the shape roared over his head, black exhaust billowing behind it. The contraption — some sort of large, metal broomstick? — landed in the grass with a thump and skidded to a halt. Its rider bent to kiss its handlebars and dismounted, raising a hand towards James in greeting.

James touched down on the grass, his mouth open. " _Sirius_?"

"The one and only," said Sirius. He pushed back his hair, which was badly tangled. "How're things, Prongs?"

"Er — fine," said James. "What're you _doing_ here?"

"Oh, right," said Sirius. "I sort of burnt all my bridges at Grimmauld Place. Long story. Been living as Padfoot for"—he cocked his head, calculating—"a week or so? Hard to tell when you're a dog. Anyway. Been getting hungry, and your mum makes those incredible dumplings, so…"

"Ah," said James. Upon closer inspection, Sirius looked thinner than usual, and there appeared to be a mixture of dirt and dried blood smeared across his face. "Er, you sure you're alright, mate?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm great," Sirius' gaze roved somewhat maniacally over the lawn. "Just need a place to store Elvendork, here…"

"Elvendork?"

Sirius grinned wolfishly, looking suddenly more like himself. "The bike. Also known as the love of my life."

"Some name, Elvendork."

"It's unisex," said Sirius with a wink.

James laughed and clapped Sirius on the back. "I'm sure we've got plenty of room for Elvendork. How about some dumplings, eh?"

They burst into the kitchen, where an impressive array of food was already displayed on the table. There were dumplings — several kinds, in fact — along with banana crisps, rice, and several vegetable dishes. Euphemia Potter, James' mum, was at the sink, washing up.

"Look who came to visit, Mum!" said James as he slid into a chair at the table.

James' mum smiled and set her dishrag atop the counter. If she was surprised to see Sirius, she didn't show it. "Sirius Orion Black. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Pleasure's all mine," replied Sirius, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you for the dumplings."

"Lottie told me you were coming," said James' mum, referring to the family house-elf. "She sensed you flying over Essex and mentioned you might be hungry."

"That's an understatement," said Sirius. He took a seat at the table and helped himself to an entire plate of dumplings. "Thanks, Mrs Potter. _Seriously_."

The lines around Euphemia Potter's mouth turned downward into a frown as she watched Sirius wolf down the dumplings. "Sirius," she said gently. "What happened?"

Sirius stopped chewing just long enough to make eye contact with her. "Nuffing," he said around a mouthful of food. "'M fine—"

He broke off as a handsome barn owl soared into the kitchen and landed gracefully on the perch beside the table. Tied to its leg was a thick envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest.

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes wide. "Is that —"

"Ickle Potter's O.W.L. results?" finished Sirius. "Oh, this'll be good." He set down his fork and swiped the letter from the owl's leg.

James flung himself across the table, knocking over the bowl of banana crisps in an effort to wrestle the envelope out of Sirius' hands, but it was no use. Sirius tipped his chair back on its legs, out of James' reach, and opened the envelope.

"Ordinary Wizarding Level Results," Sirius read aloud. "Are you ready for this, Mrs Potter? 'James Potter has achieved'… Hmm…" He scanned the parchment for a minute before tossing it in James' direction. "All O's except an E in Muggle Studies and a P in History of Magic. Not bad, Prongs! Reckon I'll have you beat, though. Think they know I'm staying here?" Sirius peered out the window hopefully, craning his neck.

"I can't believe I got an E in Muggle Studies," said James. He glanced at the parchment before handing it off to his mum. "I actually tried on that one."

"Yeah, well," said Sirius, "you've proven more than once you can't tell a phone box from a lift, so..."

"I'm more immersed in Muggle culture than you, at least, Scion of the House of Black," retorted James. Sirius winced, and James immediately regretted the joke. "Erm — I mean —"

"Nah, it's a fair point," said Sirius, returning to his food. "I had a very enlightening summer, though." He glanced at James' mum, who was headed to the drawing room with James' O.W.L. results, Lottie the house-elf trailing her heels. Sirius lowered his voice and continued. "My parents caught me, er, studying a Muggle. If you know what I mean."

James stared at Sirius. "You didn't."

"Sure did."

"Was the Muggle an Elvendork or a Wilberforce?"

"Neither," said Sirius. "She was more of a Bathsheba, actually. That's her bike, out there." He jerked his head towards the garden, where the motorbike was leaning on its kickstand.

"I didn't know Muggles had personal flying machines," said James.

"Yeah, they don't," said Sirius. "That's kind of a… new feature for Elvendork. It didn't do that when Dorcas rode it."

"Dorcas," repeated James. Sirius gave a quick nod, his eyes on his plate. "You said your parents caught you with her. Did she get out alright?"

"Dunno," said Sirius. "I told Kreacher to get her to safety, but her bike was still in the street when I left Grimmauld Place. I spent a while in London as Padfoot, trying to find her, but I couldn't even figure out where she lives." His eyes darkened. "I keep thinking — if Kreacher found a loophole… if he took her somewhere she shouldn't be…"

"I'm sure she's fine," said James. He tried to sound convincing, but the words rang hollow.

"Yeah," said Sirius dully. "Probably."

* * *

The Potter's summer home only had three bedrooms — one for Fleamont and Euphemia, one for James, and one for Lottie — so Sirius assumed he'd be staying with James. That evening, however, Fleamont Potter Apparated onto the doorstep, embraced Sirius (who froze as if he'd been Petrified, despite himself) and summarily Transfigured the closet next to James' room into a fourth bedroom. The next day, Sirius woke to find several fine sets of robes hanging neatly in the wardrobe, and Lottie admitted she'd gone shopping. Euphemia cooked him a full English breakfast, and afterwards he and James went outside to practice Quidditch.

And so Sirius found himself settling into a new routine with a new family. James' parents were generous and kind, which was wonderful and only occasionally suffocating. They didn't seem to mind his moods, though. On the days he didn't leave his room, Lottie would place a plate of dumplings outside his door, and when he eventually emerged the Potters would act as if he had never shut himself away at all.

Strangely, Sirius' O.W.L. results didn't come his first week with the Potters, or the week after that. Before he knew it, he and James were taking a Portkey to King's Cross for the start of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and he still had no idea if he had achieved any passing marks on his O.W.L.s.

"Maybe Minnie wants to go over the results with you in person," said James, leaning casually against the barrier that separated Platform Nine and Three Quarters from the rest of King's Cross.

Sirius snorted and pushed his trunk through the barrier, not bothering to be subtle about it. "Doubt it. Bet you five Cauldron Cakes they sent my letter to Grimmauld Place. I almost wish I still lived there, if only for the look on my dear mum's face when she sees I got an O in Muggle Studies…"

"There's no way you got an O in Muggle Studies." James balanced his broomstick precariously atop his trunk as they pushed through the crowd. "I didn't even get an O, and I actually revised for that one."

"Bet you ten Cauldron Cakes I did."

"Done," said James, craning his neck as he looked around the crowded platform. "I don't see Moony or Pete anywhere. Reckon they're already on the train?"

Sirius shrugged and followed James onto the Hogwarts Express. After a few minutes of searching, they found Remus and Peter in the last compartment of the train.

"Alright, lads?" asked James, pulling open the door of the compartment. "Pete, you look _bronzed_! What happened? I thought you hated being outside!"

A flush bloomed across Peter's tanned skin. "My mum and I spent the summer in Spain. You would not believe how hot it gets there."

"If it was anything like England, I can imagine," said James. He slid into the seat beside Remus, who was paging through a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "Anything good in there, Moony?"

"Yeah, actually," said Remus, holding the paper out to James. "You know Sally Dearborn, in the year above us? Her father made the front page, look…"

Sirius leaned forward to better view the article. _Caradoc Dearborn's Decree Gains Support in the House of Mages_ , the headline read.

"Caradoc?" said Sirius. "Isn't he that madman whose Muggle wife was murdered? It was horrible, too, wasn't it, I remember my parents saying the Aurors found her nearly —"

"He's not a madman," said James. His eyes flicked back and forth across the paper as he skimmed the article. "Bit paranoid, maybe, but not mad. My dad works with him sometimes and says he's alright."

"They say he went funny after his wife died, though," said Peter. "Seeing Death Eaters everywhere. Didn't he send Sally away to some monastery in Asia for defence training until she was ten?"

"That's not true at all," said Remus. "I was a prefect with her last year and she's more normal than you'd think. A bit intense, but who wouldn't be? After her mum..."

"I still think her dad's a nutter," said Sirius.

James shrugged. "I think you'd like Dearborn, Pads, he's all about Muggle rights." He folded the paper and handed it back to Remus. "This Muggle-Born Act of his sounds like a good thing, doesn't it?"

"I'm not so sure," said Remus, whose skin was more sallow than Sirius remembered. Was the full moon close, or had he always been so pale, and Sirius had forgotten? "I think a program like that is an obvious target for What's-His-Name and his followers. If they manage to infiltrate it, they'll have easy access to the names and location of hundreds of Muggles with connections to the wizarding world."

"You're so gloomy, Moony," said James. "I'm sure Dearborn's thought of that. There's probably loads of precautions to prevent that from happening."

"Let's hope," said Remus darkly, tucking his copy of the Prophet into his trunk. "So what's new with you lot? Is the Potter country home still standing after this summer?"

"The house is in one piece," said James. "Not for lack of trying on our part, though, mind you."

"Our part?" repeated Peter. "You stayed with the Potters, then, Sirius? And we weren't invited?"

"You got it, Pete," said Sirius with a yawn. "We decided you two are a couple of boring tossers and we have more fun without you." He jostled Peter, who looked horrified. "Don't be an idiot, of course it wasn't like that. I just needed somewhere to stay after I got kicked out of the house, and the Potters took me in. That's all."

Remus frowned. "They kicked you out of Grimmauld Place?"

"Well," said Sirius, "it might be more accurate to say that it was a mutual parting of ways. They caught me, er, in a compromising position with a Muggle. If you know what I mean."

"Merlin's tits," said Peter. "I can't imagine that went over well."

Sirius lifted a shoulder, trying to seem nonchalant. "Whatever you're thinking's probably accurate."

"Are you alright, then, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, fine," said Sirius, glancing out the window. "It was a long time coming. I only wish I'd done it sooner, honestly."

Peter laughed, but Remus continued to watch Sirius, his brow wrinkled.

Sirius stretched one leg across the aisle to tap Remus on the foot. "Moony, if you don't stop worrying, your face is gonna get stuck like that, and then you'll have an ugly problem to go along with your furry one. I'm _fine_. Honestly." He bounded out of his seat and began to rummage in his pockets. "Anyway. Who wants something from the trolley? My treat."

He stepped into the corridor of the train after taking James and Peter's orders; Remus had insisted he was too nauseous for sweets. He closed the compartment door with rather more force than he'd intended and began to stride along the corridor, whistling.

There was a long queue for the trolley, and Sirius took his place at the end with a sigh. He hated waiting in queues. They made him fidget.

The queue moved slowly, and out of boredom Sirius began to peer into the surrounding compartments. The one to his left was packed so tightly with Hufflepuff second years that it resembled a tin of sardines, and the compartment on the right appeared to be for the fifth year prefects. Simon Ashworth, the Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, was inside, chatting with —

Sirius whirled around abruptly, hoping the prefects hadn't seen. _Regulus_.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Regulus was looking straight at him, his expression unreadable. They stared at each other a moment before Sirius turned on his heel and pushed roughly past the other students in the queue as he stalked down the corridor.

There was a squelching sound behind him as the compartment door slid open, but Sirius didn't slow. He was nearly back to his compartment when a hand closed around his upper arm.

"We need to talk," said Regulus.

Sirius barked a laugh. "I have nothing to say to you."

"I'm sure you don't," said Regulus. His voice was smooth, but his hand trembled slightly as he let go of Sirius. "Regardless, I would like to speak to you."

Sirius made a show of checking his Muggle watch, angling it towards Regulus. "You have two minutes."

A flicker of annoyance passed over Regulus' face, but he dragged Sirius into an empty compartment. "Mother and Father saw you transform."

"Golly, I hadn't realized," said Sirius sarcastically. "Is that it? You're worried they'll report me for being an unregistered Animagus? Because if they do —"

"They're not going to report you," said Regulus.

Sirius blinked. "Oh. Well, good on them, I guess."

Regulus took a breath before responding. "They're not going to report you because their memories were modified."

Sirius stared at his brother. "Their… _what_? You — Merlin's mutilated —"

Regulus cut him off. "It wasn't intentional."

"Ah," said Sirius. "And here I thought you'd grown a pair of Bludgers for once. So what happened?"

"As soon as you left, they started to shout about reporting you to the Ministry. They were furious. I — I didn't know what to do. So I, er, Floo called Uncle Alphard —"

Sirius whistled. "You didn't."

"It wasn't on purpose!" said Regulus. He looked suddenly five years younger than he was. "He was the only person I could think of who could help — he's got ties to the Ministry, and unlike most of our relatives, he's not completely psychotic —"

"Yeah," said Sirius, "but don't pretend like you didn't consider that Obliviation would be the most likely outcome after getting him involved. I mean…"

"Well, I wasn't certain that's what he'd do! He could have —"

"He's a bloody Obliviator, Reg! His entire job is to make people forget things, don't act as if you didn't —"

"I told you, I wasn't thinking!" said Regulus, beginning to sound panicked. "I didn't know… I just…"

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the luggage rack. "So how much did they forget?"

"Most — most of what happened," said Regulus. "Everything about you being an Animagus. And everything about the Muggle girl."

"And Kreacher?"

Regulus looked away, his expression pained. "Uncle Alphard Obliviated him, too."

"Good," said Sirius. "One less thing for me to worry about."

Regulus' lips pressed into a line, as if he wanted to retort but thought better of it. "It had to be done. They weren't going to stop at just reporting you. They were angling for Azkaban."

Sirius swore. "Those bloody psychopaths."

"They could have done it, too," said Regulus. "You did use your Animagus form to maul a high-ranking Ministry official."

"Oh, yeah," said Sirius. "The bloke with the creepy mask. Well, I hadn't exactly planned to do that. It just happened. Animal instinct, you know. Whatever happened to him?"

"Uncle Alphard modified his memory as well before taking him to St. Mungo's. Animagus wounds are magical, you know, so he was able to tell them it was a chimaera bite and they couldn't tell the difference."

"Good lord, Reg," said Sirius. "You really did me a favour."

Regulus almost looked like he wanted to smile. "Don't get used to it."

Sirius grabbed onto the luggage rack as the train took a sharp turn."I dunno, Reg. The Potters have plenty of spare rooms at their house. They always wanted a big family, you know."

"Sirius," said Regulus, exasperation creeping into his voice, "I can't. Now that you're gone, it's on me to be the heir —"

"That's not true and you know it," said Sirius. "It's been on you since I was sorted into Gryffindor."

Regulus swayed a bit as the train straightened its course. "That's why you can't expect me to do something like this again for you."

"I still don't understand why you can't just give them the two-fingered salute —"

"I wouldn't expect you to," snapped Regulus. "Anyway. I just wanted you to know that you're not going to be arrested and fed to the dementors. For now."

"And I appreciate that," said Sirius as Regulus made to leave the compartment. "I'll be sure to send Uncle Alphard a thank-you card."

Regulus paused at the door. "You're your own worst enemy, Sirius. You know that, right?"

"Our parents have drilled that into me since I was eleven," said Sirius casually. "Thanks for the reminder, though."

Regulus closed the compartment door gently behind him. Sirius waited a minute before exiting the compartment as well. He slammed the door so hard that the glass shattered, littering the floor with jagged shards.

All that trouble, and he _still_ didn't have any sweets from the trolley.


	15. Lesson Bloody Learned

Severus sat alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It was the first time he'd spent the journey entirely by himself; in years past, he'd sat with Lily, or with Avery and Mulciber, more recently. In theory, he and Avery were sharing this compartment, but as soon as the train pulled out of the station, Avery had gone to patrol the corridor as a prefect.

That had been hours ago, and Avery still hadn't returned. He probably hadn't abandoned Severus, though. Knowing Avery, he was being extremely thorough in his prefect duties, the prat.

In any case, Severus had gotten used to being alone. At the start of the summer, he'd thought that Lily might come by his house, the way she'd used to. He'd even gotten into the habit of leaving the blinds up, on the off chance she was passing by and could see him through the window.

He cringed at the memory now. Lily hadn't visited, not even once. She hadn't even walked down the street. After he'd given up hope that she wanted to see him, his summer had consisted of two main things: avoiding his parents and watching the skies for an owl from Bella.

He had been certain Bella would be in contact. He'd been her protege, and she'd been fond of him. And setting such tawdry things as affection aside, they were Secondaries now, weren't they? Didn't the Dark Lord have tasks for them, his chosen few Followers?

At the very least, Severus thought Bella would owl him about being the mentor for the next batch of Intents at Hogwarts. He was the obvious choice for mentor, after all. He was the cleverest, the most capable. And Lucius Malfoy had been extremely impressed by his spellwork. That had to count for something, didn't it?

It appeared Severus had been wrong about that, too. The only owl that came was from the Ministry, not Bella, and had carried his O.W.L. results. High marks in all subjects, obviously. Not that his parents had cared.

So now Severus was alone, as usual, on the Hogwarts Express, wondering if Bella's owl had simply gotten lost. Cokeworth was very Muggle, after all. The owl might have gotten confused.

As the train was pulling into Hogsmeade station, the compartment door slid open. "There you are," said Avery. "Apologies for not returning sooner, a few of the first years needed — well, you know how it is, being a prefect. Loads of responsibilities."

Severus gritted his teeth. He did not know how being a prefect was. Professor Slughorn hadn't considered him for that particular duty. "I can only imagine."

"Thought you'd have joined Augustus and the others, though," said Avery. "They're playing Exploding Snap up near the front."

Severus hated Exploding Snap. And Augustus Mulciber. "I wasn't in the mood."

"Just as well, then," said Avery, pulling down his trunk. "Augustus told me Bella's made him mentor, have you heard?"

Severus' lip curled. He should have expected this. Mulciber had the brains of a gnome, but he came from a long line of pure-bloods, and his father was a Death Eater. Of course he'd be chosen for mentor.

The unfairness of it all made Severus' blood boil. His own father was a Muggle of the worst kind, and Bella knew it. Severus could have been as gifted as Grindelwald and she still would have passed him over. His blood status made him a liability.

"Are you alright?" asked Avery. "Anyway, looks like we've arrived. Got everything you need, then?"

During the Welcome Feast, Severus and Avery joined Mulciber, Wilkes and Rosier at the far end of the Slytherin table. Severus would have taken a candlelit dinner with James Potter over watching Mulciber gloat, but it couldn't be helped.

At the table, Mulciber didn't mention being made mentor — not even he was stupid enough to talk about being a Follower in public — but he looked far too pleased with himself. At one point, he gave Severus a knowing wink. It was only with great effort that Severus refrained from hurling a plate of pork chops into his smug face.

After the feast, Severus lingered at the table as the rest of the Slytherins joined the crowd of students filing out of the Great Hall. He needed to speak to Lily before classes started. Not to beg forgiveness, which he suspected she wouldn't give him anyway. No, his reasons were purely practical. He simply needed to know if they could continue partnering together for Potions this year. They were top of their class in Potions, after all, and N.E.W.T. material was notoriously demanding. A continued partnership only made sense.

Severus pretended to pick at his custard tart as he watched the Gryffindor table out of the corner of his eye. Lily was chatting animatedly with her friends. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that half the school had left the Great Hall. After five agonizing minutes — why was Lily laughing so loudly, Mary MacDonald wasn't even funny — the girls stood up and made for the doors of the Great Hall. Severus took a deep breath and followed them.

Lily noticed him before he had even reached her. Her green eyes narrowed and she muttered something to Marlene before very clearly turning her back on him.

Maybe he ought to abandon the whole idea. Obviously she wasn't happy to see him. But the thought of having to partner with Avery for an entire year drove Severus forward until he was staring at the back of her head.

"Lily," he said. "May I speak with you a moment?"

She didn't turn. "No, Sev. Go away."

She'd used his nickname. That had to mean something, at least. "I know you're angry. But have you considered — Potions this year is going to be extremely difficult, and it's in both of our interests to continue to partner —"

"No," said Lily flatly. "I'm not interested."

"Lily. Surely even you can realize —"

Marlene turned around. "I'm sorry, do you know what the word 'no' means?"

Severus took an instinctual step backwards. Although he was a good head taller than Marlene, she had always been the scariest of Lily's friends. "I wasn't talking to you," he said. "Lily. Please."

Lily didn't respond.

"Huh," said Marlene. "Looks like she doesn't want to talk to you. Imagine that."

"Right," said Severus irritably, "I can take a hint. Well, don't come crying to me when Mary MacDonald puts sloth brain instead of squill bulb into your Shrinking Solution — assuming she managed to copy enough of your work to scrape an A on her Potions O.W.L., that is —"

Marlene let out a mirthless laugh. "Godric's teeth, I'm about three seconds away from hexing you." She drew her wand from beneath her robes for emphasis. "Why don't you run along to your little Death Eater friends now? Go on… one… two…"

"Hit a nerve, did I?" sneered Severus, but he stalked away, pushing aside a gaggle of first year Slytherins.

Mulciber and Avery were waiting for him in the Slytherin common room, which looked as if they'd never left it. Light from the lake cast dancing green and yellow shapes on the walls and an emerald fire crackled in the hearth.

"Bella's called a meeting," said Mulciber in a low voice. "Midnight. Dungeon Thirteen."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "I thought Bella made you mentor. Are you incapable of running a simple meeting?"

"Shut it, Sev," growled Mulciber. "Midnight. Be there. Or else."

"Well, when you put it so eloquently, what other choice do I have?"

Severus purposefully stayed in the common room, pretending to annotate his Potions text, until after Mulciber left for Dungeon Thirteen. He glared at Severus as he walked by. Only when Severus' watch showed it was two minutes to midnight did he pack up his textbook and slip out of the common room.

Dungeon Thirteen hadn't changed over the summer, either; its high-backed white armchairs were arranged in a circle, resembling a posh drawing room. Severus gave an ironic bow in Mulciber's direction before settling in the last available armchair, besides one of the Slytherin first years he had brushed past earlier.

"Are we indoctrinating eleven-year-olds now?" asked Severus, glancing at the girl, who had light brown skin and tightly coiled hair divided into pigtails.

The first year titled her chin, looking at him haughtily. "Now, Sev. Is that any way to address your betters?"

Severus met the girl's eyes, frowning. Could it be? He placed a hand over his wand and reached out towards the girl with his mind. Instantly, memories that were not his own flashed before his eyes, feeling strangely familiar — a green dress, a dead crow, and for the first time, a high-pitched laugh —

Severus looked away. "Bella." She must have used Polyjuice, or perhaps human Transfiguration, though that was riskier.

The girl grinned. She still had baby teeth. Polyjuice, then. "Astute as always, Sev. I trust your summer was a pleasant one?"

"As pleasant as a Muggle hovel can be," replied Severus. Beside him, Avery snickered. "And why are you here, Bella? Don't tell me the Dark Lord has asked you to repeat your years of magical education?"

"Hardly," said the girl dismissively. "I'm only here for the evening. I wasn't supposed to come back at all, but You-Know-Who has deemed it necessary." She turned her gaze towards the others. "He has a mission for you all, and I suggest you do not disappoint him."

"Never, Bella," said Avery. Wilkes and Rosier murmured their assent.

The girl smiled. "You are all such good Followers. Now, I assume you've heard about the Muggle-Born Protection Act that Caradoc Dearborn has proposed?"

Severus nodded immediately, as did Avery and Rosier. Mulciber inclined his head after a moment, though his wrinkled brow made it clear that he had no idea what Bella was talking about.

"Excellent," said Bella. "Dearborn has a long history of fraternizing with Muggles, the blood traitor, but this is the first time he's proposed a bill that may actually be successful. The general population supports his Act, for reasons I cannot fathom." She spoke with obvious distaste. "That said, the House of Mages must not, under any circumstances, approve his proposal."

"Why not?' asked Avery. "If it gets passed, it'll just go straight to the House of Lords, and they're bound to vote against it, aren't they?"

Severus was wondering the same thing, not that he'd admit it. There were a couple hundred Mages of Parliament, which meant that all sorts of ideologies were represented in the House of Mages. It stood to reason that nonsense like Dearborn's Act would slip through from time to time.

The House of Lords, on the other hand, contained only twenty-eight seats — one for each of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the oldest wizarding pure-blood families. Surely these old families would be more inclined to side with the Dark Lord over any Muggle-loving drivel.

The girl shook her head. "While we have the full backing of eleven Lords, only seven are open supporters. The rest must be discreet. As such, it is highly probable that the House of Lords would pass this Act. Under no circumstances can this happen." Her eyes were nearly wild with passion. "Increased security around Muggles of note would be an enormous setback. In the past, leveraging the family members of those who oppose us has allowed us to make large gains within the Ministry. This Act could change all that — or at least make it more difficult. Which is where you all come in."

Mulciber's brow was so wrinkled he resembled a bulldog. Severus kept his expression neutral, although he was as lost as Mulciber. What effect could a group of students possibly have on wizarding politics?

The girl leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Dearborn has a daughter, Sally. Seventh year Gryffindor. Head Girl. The Dark Lord has decided that it would be most advantageous if she were to… disappear."

"Disappear?" repeated Mulciber. Severus winced.

"Obviously," said Bella, straightening up. "It is high time we teach Dearborn a lesson. If we take his daughter out of the picture, he may rescind the Act himself."

"Dearborn's a fanatic, though," said Avery. "My uncle's a Lord, I've heard his stories. He's always said Dearborn loves nothing more than Muggles."

Severus spoke up. "Dearborn is only one wizard. Even if he does not bend, the House of Mages might. Especially if they fear we will come for their children next."

"Exactly," said Bella, seeming pleased that Severus had so quickly grasped the situation.

"So…" said Mulciber slowly. "Do we kill her, or…?"

"I don't much care what you do," said Bella. "I trust that you do not need me to hold your hand through this, Augustus." She stood up and pulled on a hooded cloak. "I must go. The Polyjuice will be wearing off before long, and the Dark Lord is anxiously awaiting my return. You are all dismissed." She met Severus' eyes as she said this and shook her head ever so slightly.

Severus blinked. She wanted him to stay, then. He inclined his head towards her to show that he had understood.

After the others had filed out, Bella locked Dungeon Thirteen's golden door and turned to Severus. "I have an additional assignment for you," she said.

"You, or the Dark Lord?"

"Me," said Bella. "I do not bother our Lord with tasks of such low importance. You are to ensure that Regulus Black becomes an Intent."

"Really. Isn't that Mulciber's job?"

"I see being passed over for mentor has made you bitter," snapped Bella. "It is not a good look for you."

"Being left in the dark all summer has made me bitter," retorted Severus. "Not one owl, from you, after everything we did last year —"

The girl's eyes gleamed with malice. "Was wittle Severus lonely? Did he miss his best fwiend Bella?"

"There's no need to mock me. If you've grown tired of me you should have just said —"

"Tired of you?" she said. "Listen to yourself. Didn't it ever occur to you that I didn't write because I was _occupied_? There's a war going on outside of your little Cokeworth, Sev, and some of us were busy fighting in it." She leaned forward. "I've seen things that would turn your stomach. Things that make your Sectumsempra look tame. And you think I had time to be your _pen pal_?"

Severus hadn't actually considered that. He tugged on the too-short sleeves of his robes. "My apologies, Bella."

"Accepted," she said. "Now stop scowling about Mulciber. Lucius and I chose him to lead because he is a Legacy, not because he is superior to you."

"Of course," said Severus sarcastically. "I'm sure my blood status wasn't a factor at all."

"It wasn't," said Bella. "You will have your chance. We are both aware of your talents, which is why you are being given this task."

"And if Regulus refuses to be recruited?" asked Severus.

"His parents want him to Intent," said Bella simply, as if that settled the matter. She glanced at the gilded clock on the wall. "One last thing, and quickly. You tried to talk to Lily Evans today. I saw you."

Severus felt the blood drain from his face. "That… I —"

"You chose us," hissed Bella. "You have no further need for her."

"I didn't mean — it was just for Potions —"

"LIES!" shouted the girl, and Severus was startled into silence. "I have seen your mind, Severus! You might have the others fooled, but you cannot fool me!" She reached up and grabbed Severus by his robes. Her eyes bored into his. "You _must_ continue to walk the path I have laid before you. Lily Evans is not part of that path. If you try to make amends with her, I will know. And I will punish you."

"Fine," spat Severus, pushing her roughly away. "It was a mistake to try to talk with her anyway. She didn't want anything to do with me."

"I should think not," said Bella nastily. "You were awful to her last term. Even Mudbloods have a limit, it seems." She checked her watch. "I cannot allow you to waste any more of my time. Remember: recruit Regulus. I will know if you don't make an effort."

The door swung shut behind her with a clang.

* * *

After breakfast the following morning, the sixth year Gryffindors waited at their table for Professor McGonagall to distribute their class schedules. Sirius tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. Normally after breakfast he'd either be helping Remus with the crossword or starting a food fight with James, but Remus had slept in that morning, and James sitting at the other end of the table, discussing Quidditch with Parvana.

"Can you look over my timetable?" Peter asked Sirius worriedly. "I think it's alright, but I couldn't remember when Care of Magical Creatures is held, so if I've gotten that wrong then Defense is in the wrong spot too, and probably Charms as well…"

"Yeah, sure, give it here," said Sirius, taking the parchment. He pulled out his wand and began to change the names of the subjects to include more swear words.

He had just finished 'Arse-tronomy' when Professor McGonagall came down from the teacher's table, a roll of parchment in hand.

At the other end of the table, James handed her his timetable. "Morning, Professor."

"Good morning," replied Professor McGonagall stiffly. She pushed her spectacles up her nose as she reviewed James' timetable. "I must say, I was very pleased with your Transfiguration O.W.L. Very pleased. I think you will quite enjoy N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration."

"Thanks, Professor," said James. "I was wondering, do you think we'll cover Animagi this year?"

"The process of becoming an Animagi is advanced beyond even N.E.W.T. level, Potter," said McGonagall. "If you'd like to pursue it as an independent study, I would invite you to speak with me privately."

"Nah, no need," said James, crossing his arms behind his head. "I was just wondering."

Sirius could have sworn he saw Professor McGonagall's lips twitch.

The sixth year girls had their timetables approved next — Sirius noted with some interest that Mary MacDonald was taking a Muggle Studies-focused curriculum — and then Professor McGonagall reached where Sirius was sitting.

"Your timetable, please, Black?" asked Professor McGonagall, extending a hand.

"Oh, right," said Sirius. "Er, I never got my O.W.L.s, so I didn't make one. Didn't want to get ahead of myself."

Across the table, Peter stared at Sirius. "You told me you'd gotten twelve O.W.L.s!"

"Well, we don't know that I _didn't_ ," said Sirius. "Right, Professor?"

"I suppose anything is possible," said Professor McGonagall archly. "In that case, Black, I'd ask you to accompany me to my office after I finish approving the schedules of your classmates, so we can sort out your predicament."

"Gladly," said Sirius.

Professor McGonagall turned her attention to Peter, and her lips pressed tighter and tighter together as she examined his timetable. "I suppose it was foolish of me to expect more from you, Pettigrew, but 'Defense Against the Dark Farts'? Did you honestly expect me to find that funny?"

Peter went pale. "What? I — you —" He looked at Sirius, wide-eyed.

Sirius excused himself before Professor McGonagall noticed what he'd done with 'Transfiguration'.

In McGonagall's office, Sirius dragged the velvet armchair that sat in the corner of the room over to McGonagall's desk and plunked himself down into it. He'd spent enough time in her office to know which chairs were the comfortable ones.

Professor McGonagall returned after another quarter hour, her eyes flashing dangerously behind her glasses.

"You didn't like the Transfiguration joke, then?" asked Sirius.

"I expect anyone over the age of sixteen would be incapable of finding it funny," said Professor McGonagall, taking a seat behind her desk.

"Shame," said Sirius. "I thought it was brilliant."

"That does not surprise me," said Professor McGonagall archly. "Now, then. I'm assuming there is a reason why you did not receive your O.W.L.s."

"Er, yeah," said Sirius. He wished she weren't so good at cutting to the chase. "Family issues, basically. You know how my parents are."

Professor McGonagall inclined her head briefly. "They kept the results of your examinations from you?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Sirius. "I ended up leaving the house at the beginning of August. Stayed with the Potters. The Ministry must not have known about my change of address." He tried to sound as if the matter was of no great importance to him.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall. "Was there anything in particular that precipitated your… leaving Grimmauld Place?"

Sirius lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. "It was sort of a mutual decision. My parents caught me, er, in a compromising position. With a Muggle."

Professor McGonagall let out a sigh, looking suddenly pained. "You certainly don't make it easy for yourself, do you?"

"People keep saying that," said Sirius irritably. "It's not my fault my parents are a pair of maniacs."

"But when you purposely antagonize them…"

Sirius balled his hands into fists. He should have known she wouldn't be on his side. "I wasn't trying to piss my parents off, alright? I actually cared about Dorcas. And if you think I'd _ever_ — that I meant for them to —" He needed to calm down before he said something he'd regret. "You have no idea what they're like. None."

Professor McGonagall blinked. "Dorcas," she repeated. "Do you know what happened to this Dorcas?"

Sirius clenched his jaw. "No. I sent her away with Kreacher after my parents found us. She could be —"

He could have sworn he saw an expression of pity pass over McGonagall's face before she composed herself. She straightened a little. "It may be for the best that your tryst ended when it did. I should hardly have to tell you this, but Muggles do not belong in the Wizarding World, Black. They are… more fragile than us."

Sirius grunted. "Yeah, well, lesson bloody learned."

"There's no need to feel foolish," said Professor McGonagall. She rifled through the papers on her desk, not meeting his eyes. "You are not the first to have fallen for the allure of a Muggle, and I am sure you will not be the last."

That sounded almost… like she had… Sirius sat up. "The allure of a Muggle? Professor, surely you're not insinuating… have _you_ —"

"That's quite enough, Black," said Professor McGonagall sharply, but a hint of colour appeared on her cheeks.

"You _have_ ," said Sirius. "Godric's mane, Professor, there's no need to be embarrassed. Was it — did you —"

"You are being ridiculous," said Professor McGonagall. She adjusted her pointed witches' hat. "I only meant to say that as an adult with some perspective on the matter, I can assure you that the vast majority of Muggle-wizard relationships end in tragedy. It is better you find that out sooner rather than later."

"Cheers, Professor," said Sirius, raising an imaginary glass.

Professor McGonagall pretended not to have heard him. "Now," she said briskly, "onto the subject of your O.W.L.s…"

"Yeah, give 'em here," said Sirius, reaching out an arm. "Me and James have ten pumpkin pasties on who got the higher mark in Muggle Studies."

"I would hate to deprive you of pumpkin pasties," said Professor McGonagall. She slid a sheet of parchment across the table. Sirius grabbed it eagerly and leaned forward in his chair, eyes flicking over the results.

"Ha!" he said. "I knew it. James is gonna have to pay up."

There was a small smile at the edges of Professor McGonagall's mouth. "Your other marks weren't too bad, either."

"I'll say," said Sirius, grinning at her. "Right, well, I'm definitely dropping Potions and History of Magic, 'cause they're wastes of my time, but I'd like to continue on with the rest. If that's okay, Professor?"

"That's quite satisfactory," said Professor McGonagall. She drew her wand and tapped a blank piece of parchment. Immediately, splotches of ink blossomed across the parchment, forming Sirius' timetable. "I will also inform the Ministry of the details of your change of residence. I assume any further correspondence can be forwarded to the Potters?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," said Sirius, standing up. "Thanks, Professor. And, erm… thanks for the advice about the whole, er, Muggle thing."

"No need to thank me," said Professor McGonagall stiffly. "I look forward to seeing you during lessons, Black."

* * *

Classes began the following Monday, and Lily was surprised to discover that she had as much coursework to do as ever, despite dropping both Astronomy and Ancient Runes. In addition, the fact that class sizes were smaller meant that the professors were able to scrutinize her work even more closely, leaving less room for error.

Severus was able to scrutinize her more closely, too, since he was now in both Potions and Transfiguration with her. The mere sight of him was enough to make her flush with anger, but there were some unexpected bright sides to the situation. The look on his face when Lily had partnered with Mary during their first Potions lesson had been priceless.

On Wednesday at breakfast, Lily nearly nodded off into her mug of tea.

"Careful," said Parvana, steadying her. "Are you feeling alright, Lily?"

"F — fine," said Lily through a yawn. She'd stayed up past midnight completing an essay about Gamp's Law for Professor McGonagall. "This year is going to kill me."

"Should've gone into Muggle Relations like me," Mary told her brightly. "I'm averaging one lesson a day, it's brilliant."

Lily merely grunted around a mouthful of breakfast food.

"That's the spirit," said Marlene, yawning loudly. She was hoping to obtain enough N.E.W.T.s to become an Auror, and as such had stayed up even later than Lily had. "We just have to make it to after dinner and then we can nap. There's a room on the seventh floor that's full of pillows and blankets, I'll have to show you…"

"I'm not free after dinner," said Lily miserably. "I'm meeting Madam Pomfrey for my apprenticeship."

Marlene blinked. "That's right! Oh, you'll like that, though. I started my apprenticeship with Auror Bones yesterday, and it was amazing."

"Maybe Madam Pomfrey will let me take a nap on one of the cots," said Lily wistfully, pouring herself a third cup of tea.

As soon as Lily arrived at the hospital wing, however, it became clear that there would be no opportunities for napping. There were four students lying on cots already, with another three still queued up, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to examine them. Madam Pomfrey, for her part, was pouring a foul-smelling potion down the throat of a third year Ravenclaw who appeared to have grown a third arm.

Madam Pomfrey glanced up as Lily shut the door behind her. "Ah, Lily, you're here! Perfect timing. Would you mind helping Eustace here to an available cot, and then fetching him a dose of Soothing Salve? It should be in the medicine cupboard, top shelf on the left."

"Erm, of course," said Lily, feeling a bit overwhelmed already. She took the unfortunate Eustace by the arm and steered him to an empty cot. A sixth year Slytherin girl who appeared to be completely bald immediately took a seat on the stool Eustace had vacated, and Madam Pomfrey began to examine her.

Once Lily had guided Eustace to his cot, she pulled the door of the medicine cupboard open and groaned. Of _course_ it was bigger on the inside. Not only that, but the shelves were overflowing with vials and assorted medical supplies, making it nearly impossible to pick out anything in particular among the mess.

"Evans," called Madam Pomfrey, "Have you found the Soothing Salve? Sooner rather than later would be preferable…"

Lily heard a retch, followed by a splashing sound. "Erm, coming!" she called, sifting through the topmost shelf, which was covered in glass decanters containing liquids of all sizes and colours. Finally, behind a bottle full of purple liquid that was marked with a skull and clearly labelled 'Hemlock', she spotted the salve.

She practically sprinted to Eustace's bedside. She uncorked the bottle quickly and poured the potion into a silver thimble. Eustace grabbed the potion with his third arm and downed it, shuddering as he swallowed. After a couple of seconds, the greenish colour vanished from his face, and he slumped back onto the pillows, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Right," said Lily. "I'll just — erm — get you a glass of water, shall I?"

Eustace nodded, and Lily slipped out from the curtain surrounding the cot. She returned to Madam Pomfrey, who immediately passed the bald Slytherin girl off to her, with the instructions that she add two Veela hairs to a mouthful of something called Sleekeazy's Finest.

The flow of students slowed to a trickle after about an hour. During that time, Lily ran somewhat frantically around the hospital wing, guiding students to their cots and rummaging through the cupboard for the appropriate remedies. At last, the final student in the queue — a tiny first year Gryffindor with bright blue hives all over her face — had been set right with an application of a poultice to her cheeks.

Lily looked expectantly at the doors of the hospital wing, sure that another student in crisis was about to burst through the oaken doors. To her surprise, Remus Lupin walked in. He was clearly ill; his eyes were bright, as if with fever, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"Remus?" asked Lily. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," said Remus between gasps. He looked a bit confused at Lily's presence in the hospital wing but didn't seem to be any condition to make conversation. "Madam Pomfrey — is she around…?"

"I'm here," said Madam Pomfrey. She took him by the arm and he sagged a little, leaning into her. "We'll just be off, then, shall we? Lily, I'll be gone for a minute, never you mind — if anyone comes in urgently, just send an owl, I'll be back in a jiff —" And she whisked Remus out of the hospital wing before Lily had a chance to respond.

Lily sat at the triage desk, watching the doors swing shut behind them. She remembered Severus' odd insistence that something was funny with Remus Lupin, and wondered idly what the moon phase was. She'd dropped Astronomy, though, so she didn't have any idea.

Madam Pomfrey returned a half hour later and resumed putting Lily through her paces. In the end, it was well after ten o'clock at night by the time Lily left the hospital wing. Her feet ached and her mind was racing with all that she had seen that evening, but she was quite pleased with the entire experience. She had nearly mastered the Episkey spell, and Madam Pomfrey had even taught her how to calculate accurate doses of Skele-Gro.

Lily traced the pattern for the Episkey spell in the air with her index finger as she turned the corner of the fifth floor corridor. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she paused, her hand still in the air; there were whispers coming from behind a statue of Gregory the Smarmy.

"Who's there?" she called, drawing her wand. " _Lumos_."

The whispers stopped at once. Lily frowned and advanced on the statue, wand held aloft. "Whoever you are, come on out. It's past curfew." The light from her wand illuminated the alcove behind the statue. Nobody was there.

There was a sudden squeaking sound and something small shot out from behind the base of the statue. It raced past Lily and down the corridor.

Lily whirled around and pointed her wand at it. " _Stupefy_." A burst of red light hit the small creature and it stopped in its tracks, collapsing on the carpet. Lily advanced on it. She wrinkled her nose when she saw what it was.

"Just a mouse," she muttered, picking it up by its tail to examine it more closely. She really must be exhausted if she was mistaking the squeaking of a mouse for whispers. Lily pocketed the poor thing before straightening up; at the very least, it would make a good treat for the next time she needed to send a letter in the Owlery.

There was a rustle behind her and Lily turned to see James and Sirius striding towards her.

"Evening, Evans," said James cheerfully, stuffing a silvery cloak into his bag. "Fancy meeting you here. I think I'll need that rat back, if you don't mind." He held out his hand.

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"We're gonna feed it to the Giant Squid," said Sirius, winking at her.

Lily folded her arms. "You're planning on feeding a mouse to the Giant Squid at nearly midnight on a Wednesday?"

"Oh, is that the time?" asked James, widening his eyes. "We had no idea." Beside him, Sirius checked his Muggle watch and let out a gasp of mock horror.

"Potter," said Lily, exasperated, "it's the third day of classes. Are you lot really breaking curfew already?"

James shrugged. "I mean, technically, the first time was on Monday, but we didn't get caught then, so…"

"You know I'm going to have to give you detention," said Lily.

James grinned. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"I'm sure that'll teach us a lesson," said Sirius. "We won't be breaking curfew again in a hurry."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

"Believe you me, Evans," said James. "From now on it's a new leaf for us. Just imagine, a round of detentions! The horror…"

"Keep talking, and it'll be two rounds of detentions," said Lily. "Now, how would you like to accompany me back to Gryffindor tower?"

"That's actually the whole reason we snuck out," said James. "Can't have young Gryffindor women walking back to the common room by themselves." He tried to take Lily by the arm, but she shook him off.

"Could we get that rat back?" asked Sirius as the three made their way down the corridor.

Lily shrugged and placed the unconscious rat in Sirius' hand. "I don't even want to know what you really have planned with the poor thing."

"We would never hurt him," said James. "He's our pet. Had him since second year."

"Now I really feel bad for it," said Lily, and Sirius laughed.

After a couple of minutes of walking, they reached the Gryffindor common room. "I'm sure McGonagall will be in touch about the detentions," said Lily, yawning.

"Excellent," said James. "Anything to spend more time with Minnie. Night, Evans."

"Yeah, goodnight," said Sirius. "We're definitely not going to sneak out again the minute you go up to your dormitory."

Lily rubbed at her eyes. "You're lucky I've been awake for eighteen hours at this point. I'm past caring about anything that isn't my bed."

"Good girl," said James. "Get some rest. We'll see you in the morning."

"God, I hope not," said Lily, climbing the stairs to her dormitory. "I'm planning on sleeping in."

It was only after she had brushed her teeth and snuggled under her blankets that she realized that she was absolutely positive James had not kept a pet rat since the second year. She frowned for a moment before giving a mental shrug and rolling over in bed. Who could fathom the mind of James Potter?


	16. The Recruitment of Regulus Black

Quidditch tryouts for the Slytherin team took place the following morning, and Severus found himself signing up to try out for Seeker. It was the best chance he had to talk to Regulus without being overheard.

"Alright, Severus?" asked Mulciber as Severus joined him on the Quidditch pitch. He was leaning on his Beater's bat as if it were a cane, seeming not to care that the tip had sunk into the mud. He smirked as he took in Severus' secondhand Quidditch robes and broom. "Nice ride. Didn't know you played."

"I thought I'd try something new," said Severus dryly. "I've been told I have the build of a Seeker." This was a stretch, and Severus knew it; his scrawny figure was the product of chronic malnourishment, unlike the lithe muscles of a Seeker.

Mulciber gave Severus a once-over and grunted. "Yeah, I guess. The queue for Seeker tryouts is over there." He jerked his head towards the far end of the Quidditch pitch.

"Thanks," said Severus. He picked up his broom, a tattered Cleansweep Two he'd swiped from Madam Hooch's shed that morning, and joined the back of the queue. Regulus was only a couple places ahead of him. The morning breeze lifted the ends of Regulus' hair, which was the same sleek onyx as his brother's, though Regulus kept his hair a good deal shorter.

Severus made a movement as if he was rotating his shoulders, and his wand, which had been hidden up his sleeve, slipped into his hand. From there, it was simple enough to direct a pair of silent jinxes at the students separating him from Regulus. One of the students, a Slytherin fourth year, immediately began to hyperventilate before making a dash for the changing room, muttering something about 'nerves'.

The other student doubled over, pinching his nose. Blood spattered the back of Regulus' Quidditch robes, which were such a brilliant shade of emerald green they must have been brand new.

"Oh, dear," said Severus, not sounding concerned at all. "Come down with a nosebleed, eh, Shafiq? Must be all this dry air we're having."

Cassius Shafiq turned towards Severus. "Erm, yeah, I…"

"Let me take a look at that," said Severus. He pulled Shafiq's hand away from his face, examining the blood smeared across his palm. Shafiq paled; he swayed on his feet for a second before toppling to the ground, unconscious.

"Pity," said Severus. "He never could handle the sight of blood."

Regulus glanced at Shafiq's unmoving form and looked away so quickly he, too, may have been afraid of blood. That, or he was supremely unconcerned with the welfare of others. _Interesting_ , thought Severus.

"Shall we move him off the pitch?" said Regulus, his eyes on the sky. His voice was remarkably like his brother's, though Regulus' enunciation was crisper, making him sound impossibly well-bred.

Severus nodded, and Regulus draw his wand. He muttered something under his breath and Shafiq began to float towards the stands, out of harm's way.

"Think he got some blood on your robes, the oaf," said Severus, pointing his wand at the hem of Regulus' robes. "Allow me."

A flicker of alarm passed over Regulus' face. "There's no need —"

Severus caught Regulus' glance at his ill-fitting, hand-me-down Quidditch robes. His mouth filled with a sour taste. "Of course."

Regulus flicked his wand and the blood vanished from his robes. "It's Snape, right?" he asked as he examined his handiwork. "Severus Snape?"

"Indeed."

"Regulus Black," said Regulus, extending a hand. "I believe you know my brother?"

"After a fashion," said Severus.

Regulus' lip twitched. The girl ahead of Regulus jogged out onto the field to take her turn as Seeker, leaving the two of them alone in the queue. "I didn't realize you played Quidditch."

"Not normally," said Severus, keeping his eyes on the girl as she mounted her broom. "You could say I'm not much of a team player."

Regulus actually laughed at that, a short, staccato burst. "Why are you here then, Snape?"

"I want to offer you an opportunity," said Severus.

The humour vanished from Regulus' angular face. "I see."

"You've heard rumours, I'm sure," said Severus. "There exists a group here at Hogwarts that seeks to serve the Dark Lord, in whatever capacity he may require of us as students."

Regulus' grey eyes were fixed on Severus. "Go on."

"There's a process for joining. Nothing out of the ordinary — it mostly consists of spending time together, performing service activities. Occasional group meetings. That sort of thing."

"Nothing out of the ordinary," echoed Regulus. "And suppose I'm not interested?"

"I understand that your parents would quite like this for you."

Regulus narrowed his eyes. "You've been speaking to Bella."

"Naturally," said Severus. "But not to worry — I am not seeking to manipulate you. This group is an excellent opportunity to make connections, learn new things, and expand your social circle. There's no reason _not_ to join."

"I can think of one," said Regulus. "I would be aligning myself with a certain side."

"Let's not pretend that hasn't been the plan for you all along," said Severus. "Especially considering your brother, the Gryffindor…" He trailed off, letting the sentence dangle between them.

Regulus' expression darkened, and for a moment he looked so much like Sirius that Severus felt the sudden urge to curse him. "Point taken." He looked away. Severus followed his gaze; the girl who was trying out for Seeker was flying back and forth somewhat desperately in her search for the Snitch.

"We're meeting at ten in the common room on Saturday before going to Hogsmeade," said Severus. "We've been given an assignment there."

"Sounds exciting," said Regulus, his tone indicating he found it anything but.

"It's better than whatever drivel _you've_ got planned for the weekend," retorted Severus. "We're going to put Caradoc Dearborn in his place — that blood traitor who's been stirring up trouble with the Muggle-born Protection Act. You must have heard of him."

There was a flicker of recognition in Regulus' eyes. "Does Dearborn go on Hogsmeade excursions, as well?"

"His daughter does," said Severus, and Regulus' eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "Will you be joining us on Saturday?"

Regulus went back to watching the tryouts. The girl was now descending, looking like she was holding back tears. "I suppose I will."

"You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic about the prospect."

"You're getting me confused with my brother," said Regulus, a hint of nastiness creeping into his voice. " _Enthusiastic_ is not my style." He adjusted his broom on his shoulder. "Looks like I'm up. Best of luck with tryouts."

"About that," said Severus. "It seems I've come down with a sudden stomach ache. I don't think I'll be able to try out, after all."

Regulus' thin lips curled into the semblance of a smile. "Less competition for me. I'll see you on Saturday, then." Before Severus could respond, Regulus had jogged off. He mounted his broom when he was halfway across the Quidditch pitch and took to the air, as graceful in flight as on the ground. Such effortlessness was surely the result of both a lifetime of private Quidditch lessons and the inherent nobility that had been bred into Regulus from birth.

Severus fought the feeling of jealousy curdling his insides and trudged off the pitch.

* * *

James and Sirius ended up serving their detentions in the library, shelving returned books for Madam Pince. It was, in James' opinion, one of the dullest detentions he'd ever had, second only to helping Professor Binns grade essays.

He picked up a book from the large stack atop the table and turned it over in his hands. The cover was embossed with gold and titled _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. Each chapter described, in excruciating detail, the family history of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"Hey, Padfoot," said James, skimming the chapter labelled _Black_. "Did you know you've got a great-uncle named Lycoris Black who nearly burned down London three hundred years ago? Most devastating use of Fiendfyre on record, it says here…"

"Oh, him," said Sirius. "Yeah, Mum still visits his grave on the anniversary. I know just the place for that book, give it here..." He pulled the copy of _Nature's Nobility_ out of James' hands and shoved it onto a shelf, between _The Magic of Muggles_ and _My Life as a Squib_.

"I don't think it belongs there," said Remus mildly from an armchair. He had accompanied them to the library, supposedly to supervise their detention.

"Oh, my mistake," said Sirius. "Didn't realize the school library had a section labelled Pure-Blooded Tosh. If you'll just point it out to me, Moony..."

Remus frowned. "It's only a history book."

The playful tone left Sirius' voice. "It's garbage."

"I've got an idea," said James loudly, hoping to distract Sirius before he followed in his uncle's footsteps and set fire to the library.

Remus seized upon the opportunity to change the subject at once. "An idea? That sounds dangerous."

"Nah," said James. "I mean, not comparatively. You know how we missed the full this week cause Evans caught us sneaking down to Willow?"

"I seem to remember something along those lines," said Remus. He indicated the long scratch across his temple that had yet to heal completely.

"Well, I've been thinking about that," said James. "And I've decided we need to figure out a way to keep tabs on where Evans is at all times. To avoid her, of course."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like a good use of our time."

"One of these days Lily's bound to get a restraining order against you," said Remus. A fat rat with sandy fur peeked out of Remus' pocket and squeaked its agreement.

"Shut it, Wormtail," said James. "I'm not joking. The Invisibility Cloak can only get us so far. If we knew where the prefects were patrolling, we wouldn't have to sneak around under the Cloak in the first place — we could just avoid them."

"That's actually not a bad idea," said Sirius. "We could create some sort of map of Hogwarts that tracks the movement of prefects and the professors."

"Exactly," said James. "If anyone asks about it, we can say we're, I don't know, starting the first Hogwarts Cartography Club or something."

"We could probably get Binns to sponsor us, even," said Sirius. "He never knows what's going on, he'll sign anything…"

Remus' head was tilted thoughtfully. "We should include more than just authority figures on the map. Mulciber's little gang, for example. I don't much fancy running into them."

"Well, there's no point in tracking Snivellus," said Sirius. "You only have to find Evans and he's across the room somewhere, pining after her so hard it looks like he's about to take a dump…"

James snorted. "I think a modified Homonculous Charm would work for the map. I've used the spell before when we needed dew for the Animagi transformations. Shouldn't be too difficult."

The rat tumbled out of Remus' pocket and darted behind the armchair he was sitting in. A moment later, Peter emerged, smoothing his hair. "Where're we gonna get a map of Hogwarts, though?"

James and Sirius looked at each other. "Erm, not sure," said James. "I guess we could make one ourselves —"

Remus shut the book he'd been reading. "Have none of you ever opened a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_?"

"I have, technically," said Sirius. "If only to use its pages for a loo roll…"

Remus shook his head and stood up, leaving the aisle. He returned after a couple of minutes, holding _Hogwarts: A Histor_ y. "Every copy comes with a map," he said. "How else are first years supposed to find their way around?"

Peter stared at Remus incredulously. "You mean we didn't have to spend our first six months as students stumbling blindly around Hogwarts?"

"You were the only one stumbling, Wormtail," said Sirius. "The rest of us had the castle memorized after a week. We just thought it was a laugh to let you lead the way."

Remus opened his copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ on the table, unfurling the map inside. "The most recent edition is nearly two hundred years old, so it isn't perfect," he said. "It hasn't got any of the secret passageways, and the entire third floor is missing, for some reason. The dungeons are left mostly blank, as well…"

"It's a start, though," said James, drawing his wand. " _Diffindo."_ The map separated from the spine of the book. James folded it and placed it into his pocket. "Let's start working on it when we go to the kitchens tonight."

Unfortunately, during dinner in the kitchens, Peter spilt a goblet of Butterbeer all over the map, rendering everything from the Great Hall to the sixth floor a soggy mess of smeared ink.

"Oops," said Peter. "My fault. No worries, though…" He pulled out his wand. " _Evanesco_." The ink siphoned off the map and into his wand, leaving the parchment completely blank.

There was a pause.

James recovered first. "Well, there's more than one copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ in the library. Right, Remus?"

As it turned out, the library contained two additional copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ , which James managed to smuggle out under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Take two," said James, once they were back in their dormitory. "Should we start working on the essentials, then?"

Remus nodded. "We definitely need to add the third floor."

"Erm," said James, "I think you misunderstood. I was talking about tracking Lily Evans."

Sirius threw his hands in the air in frustration and left the room.

By the end of the week, both of the maps James had snuck out of the library had been ruined. Peter accidentally set one on fire, though he swore up and down he had no idea how it had happened and definitely hadn't been experimenting with Fiendfyre. James found the other map ripped to shreds beside Sirius' bed.

"It was an accident," Sirius said quickly at the expression on James' face. "You know how I get when I'm Padfoot, I get urges and I can't help myself…"

"That's a load of dung," said James. "I'm an Animagus, too, remember? I know how it works. You don't get _urges_ —"

"You do if you transform for long enough," said Sirius. "I've spent more time as Padfoot than you have as Prongs, and I'm telling you, I get urges."

"Me too," said Peter, scrambling onto Sirius' bed. "I always crave cheese when I'm Wormtail."

"Yeah," said James, "but how often do you crave cheese as a human being?"

"Er… constantly?"

"My point exactly. Animagi don't get _urges_ , Sirius, you just ruined the map for no reason —"

"Well, I know what I'm asking Minnie about during our next Transfiguration lesson," said Sirius.

James rolled his eyes. "In the meantime, how are we going to get more maps?"

"We get to go to Hogsmeade this weekend," Remus pointed out. "We could just buy more copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ at Tomes and Scrolls."

"When you say 'we', do you mean 'James'?" asked Sirius. "Because I'm a bit skint at the moment. Side effect of running away from home, you know…"

"I did mean James," said Remus, looking pleased. "I'm sure he won't mind."

"I'm right here, and I do mind," said James. "If you lot ruin any more maps with your _animal urges_ —"

"Need to break a few eggs to make a basilisk, mate," said Sirius, slinging an arm around James' shoulders. "It'll all be worth it in the end."

James elbowed him in the side. "Get your mangy paws off me."

"I haven't got mange. I'm too pretty."

"If you ruin another map I'm going to put you on a leash."

"Kinky," said Sirius. "I like it."

James groaned and shoved Sirius off him. "Fancy a game of pickup Quidditch?"

"No," said Remus and Peter simultaneously.

"Only if I get to ride Elvendork," said Sirius, snatching what appeared to be a miniature motorcycle off his bedside table.

James raised an eyebrow. "You're going to lose if you ride Elvendork. That thing has the worst turning radius I've ever seen."

"Hush." Sirius cupped his hands over the motorcycle. "Elvendork can hear you. You'll ruin my baby's self-confidence."

"Good," said James. "Then you'll definitely lose. Remus, wanna keep score?"

"No," said Remus.

"Excellent," said James, picking his Quidditch robes up off the floor. "Peter, you can ref. I'll meet you lot at the pitch in ten."

* * *

"Where's your little protege, Sev?" asked Mulciber, pushing open the massive oak doors that led to the castle grounds. It was Saturday and though it was early, the only students still inside the castle were the first and second years who couldn't yet go to Hogsmeade. "Thought he was meeting us in the common room."

"He's already in Hogsmeade," said Severus. "Got breakfast with a family member. He said he'd meet us outside the post office." He tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the truth was he'd bet ten Galleons, if he had any, that Regulus had gotten cold feet. Severus didn't blame him; he himself wasn't exactly looking forward to — whatever it was they were going to do to Sally. Mulciber had been infuriatingly tight-lipped about the details of his plan, which meant that whatever happened would probably be disastrous.

Severus had kept an eye on Sally these past few weeks, and the way she carried herself reminded him of his father. Tobias always looked like he was ready to punch first and ask questions later. Privately, Severus expected one of two outcomes: either Mulciber would perform the Killing Curse on Sally in broad daylight in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, or else Sally would murder Mulciber for daring to attack her.

It was a quick walk in the crisp autumn air to Hogsmeade. As they approached the village, Severus was surprised to see Regulus leaning against the wall of the post office. Regulus raised a hand coolly at the group in greeting before falling into step beside Severus.

Mulciber nodded approvingly. "Black. Wasn't sure you'd make it."

An expression of mild surprise appeared on Regulus' aristocratic features. "I would have thought Severus had told you I was having breakfast with a family member."

"Er," said Mulciber. "He did, but…"

Regulus' lips pressed together in a small smile. "Thought I might have backed out of what we're about to do here?"

"Something like that," grunted Mulciber. "This brotherhood is not for everybody."

"I see," said Regulus, sounding unimpressed. "Oh, by the way — I saw Sally Dearborn pass by not ten minutes ago. Looked to me like she was heading to the Three Broomsticks."

"Or Zonko's," said Severus. "It's on the way."

The Secondaries turned onto the main street, where Mulciber ordered them to make a show of admiring Spintwitches' window display of broomsticks while he slipped into Zonko's.

He emerged a couple of minutes later. "She's in there," he muttered, squeezing beside Severus at the window display. "Should be out soon, she was queuing up to buy something."

Not five minutes later, the door to Zonko's jingled. Severus fought the urge to turn and look, keeping his eyes on the broomsticks. Out of his peripheral vision, a figure in a red coat stepped into the street.

"We'll tail her," said Mulciber out of the corner of his mouth. "Slowly, now…"

Sally Dearborn, with her red coat and blonde plaits, was not a difficult person to follow. She strode down the street, weaving between clusters of students, before pulling open the door to the Three Broomsticks and vanishing inside.

"Now's our chance," said Mulciber. "Regulus, go in there and tell her there's a couple of students duelling behind Honeydukes."

Regulus looked sideways at Mulciber. "Why me?"

"Because you're a prefect, and so is she. She'll feel obligated to back you up."

"Edmund's a prefect, too," said Regulus with a glance at Avery.

Mulciber clapped a meaty hand on Regulus' shoulder. "Ah, but Edmund is not the one who needs to prove himself, is he?"

Regulus shrugged off Mulciber's hand. "Point taken." Before Mulciber could say anything more, Regulus crossed the street, turning up the collar of his starched coat. He hesitated at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, but only for a moment before he pulled open the door to the pub, his jaw set.

"Spread out," ordered Mulciber as soon as Regulus had vanished into the Three Broomsticks. "Wilfred and I will be behind Honeydukes. Evan, Edmund, head down the street a bit. If she escapes from us, I want you there to intercept her. Severus, you'll be in the alley by the Three Broomsticks. Disillusion yourself, you're good at that. When Regulus and Sally go behind Honeydukes, I want you following. Hex her if she tries to get away. Understood?"

Severus nodded and crossed the busy street, his oversized robes billowing behind him as he ducked into the alleyway beside the Three Broomsticks. He drew his wand, and his body shimmered for a moment before becoming translucent. Satisfied, he crouched behind a rain barrel.

After a couple of minutes, Regulus emerged from the Three Broomsticks, Sally Dearborn in tow. She was much shorter than Regulus, and her height combined with her blonde plaits made her look almost childish. _Vulnerable_ , thought Severus.

"Where did you say the duel was?" she asked. Regulus' response was lost among the noise of the crowd as he steered her across the street, towards the alley which wrapped around Honeydukes.

Severus ducked out from behind the rain barrel and followed them, dodging between clusters of students ambling along the street. He caught up to Regulus and Sally right as they disappeared around a bend in the alley. Severus went no further, pressing himself into the corner of the bend. He kept his hand on his wand; if Sally tried to run, he'd be responsible for stopping her.

Behind Honeydukes, Mulciber and Wilkes were pretending to duel. Wilkes was wearing Hufflepuff robes and had applied some sort of charm that made him appear to have red hair and severe acne.

Their fight was rather unconvincing, in Severus' opinion. Mulciber fired a Bat-Bogey Hex at Wilkes which went obviously wide, shooting over Wilkes' head and ricocheting off the brick wall of Honeydukes.

"Alright, you two," said Sally, striding ahead of Regulus in true Gryffindor fashion. "Playtime's over. Wands away, or it's a round of detentions for —"

She broke off as Mulciber wheeled towards her, slashing his wand through the air. A jet of silver light barreled towards her — Severus recognized it as one of his nastier jinxes — and she ducked. The spell missed her by inches. Mulciber blinked, seeming surprised that Sally's reflexes were so quick.

"Hexing a prefect," said Sally, panting a little as she straightened up. "Right, that'll make it a month's worth of detentions —"

Wilkes exchanged a look with Mulciber, and then the two of them made identical movements, tracing a symbol in the air with their wands.

Sally's eyes widened. "No," she said, backing up. "Regulus, do you see this, they're…" There was a shimmer in the air around Sally, and her voice faded. Her mouth continued to move, but no sound came out. Sally whirled towards Regulus, panicked, shouting something that none of them could hear.

Regulus' knuckles were white where he gripped his wand, his mouth set in a thin line. "Sorry, Sally," he muttered, raising his wand. " _Stup_ —"

Sally made a sudden movement and Regulus' wand went flying out of his hand. Sally caught it and spun towards Wilkes and Mulciber, fury blazing in her eyes as she pointed both wands at them. She shot a nonverbal hex at Wilkes with Regulus' wand while a Shield Charm erupted from the tip of her own.

Severus' pulse quickened. Stupid Mulciber; Sally was a seventh year, and the daughter of the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation to boot. Of _course_ she'd been taught advanced defensive magic.

The hex caught Wilkes in the abdomen, and he fell to his knees as his legs began to fuse together, forming a large, orange fishtail.

Mulciber grunted, his wand aloft as he advanced on Sally. " _Sectum_ ," he growled, and the curse slid through the Shield Charm as easily as if it were made of silk, catching Sally on the shoulder. Sally's mouth twisted as she cried out in obvious pain, though she made no sound. A dark stain began to spread across the shoulder of her red coat.

She glanced at Regulus, her eyes sliding over Severus' Disillusioned form before she turned back to Wilkes and Mulciber, her eyes calculating. Then, with a shake of her wand, her Shield Charm vanished and she began to run, sprinting past Regulus, towards Severus —

Severus raised his wand and shot a Trip Jinx at Sally's feet. She stumbled, then fell, her jaw hitting the ground hard. Mulciber advanced on her, Wilkes flopping uselessly on the ground behind him. Sally scrambled onto her back, drawing complicated patterns in the air with her wand. The ground under Severus' feet began to quake, and Mulciber jumped backwards as a solid brick wall rose up from the ground. It divided the alleyway in two, trapping Mulciber and Wilkes on the other side of the wall.

Sally examined her handiwork from where she was lying on her back. She seemed pleased, though her smile looked more like a grimace. She twisted towards Regulus, her expression wary as she pointed his own wand at him. Severus barely dared to breathe; she still hadn't seemed to notice he was there.

Regulus didn't move. He met Sally's gaze steadily. After a moment, Sally began to lower her arm. Severus couldn't believe it. She was actually going to set Regulus' wand on the ground for him. Did she honestly believe Regulus was on her side?

There was a sudden booming noise; the wall shook as something exploded into the bricks from the other side. Sally started at the noise, and Regulus darted forward, grabbing his wand out of her hands.

" _Expelliarmus_!" shouted Regulus, but Sally had already raised her own wand, and she deflected the spell with ease. She scrambled to her feet, her face twisted in fury at Regulus' betrayal. She trained her wand on Regulus and her mouth moved, though no sound came out.

The spell, black as pitch, caught Regulus in the stomach. There was a horrible squelching sound and Regulus cried out in pain, doubling over with his arms wrapped around his waist.

A second booming noise shook the wall, sending bricks tumbling onto the ground. Sally spat in Regulus' direction, then turned on her heel and fled down the alley. Severus aimed his wand at her from where he was hiding, muttering a curse under his breath, but the spell soared over her head. Sally pointed her wand over her injured shoulder, and Severus barely managed to cast a Shield Charm in time to deflect the three Stunning Spells that came barreling towards him.

Suddenly, Rosier and Avery appeared at the entry of the alleyway, blocking Sally's exit. Sally didn't slow; she pointed her wand at herself and then — Severus blinked several times in surprise — she leapt into the air, soaring over the heads of Rosier and Avery. She landed somewhere in the middle of the crowded street, vanishing into the throng of students.

Behind Severus came a final booming sound, accompanied by a flash of red light. He turned in time to see the brick wall that Sally had conjured crumble and vanish. Mulciber and Wilkes stood in its place, pointing their wands at where the wall had been. Wilkes had gotten rid of his fishtail, though his feet were still covered in orange scales.

"Where'd she go?" demanded Mulciber, his icy blue eyes flicking between Severus' disillusioned form and Regulus, who had gone very pale as he clutched his stomach.

"East. Towards the Shrieking Shack," said Severus, ending his disillusionment spell.

"Well then, _what are you lot waiting for_?" growled Mulciber. "Find her!"

Rosier and Avery nodded and sprinted out of the alley, Mulciber and Wilkes right behind them. Severus figured his athletic ability was the least useful of his talents, so instead of pursuing Sally Dearborn, he turned towards Regulus. "Are you injured?"

"Think so," said Regulus, who was still doubled over and breathing hard. "My stomach… I feel…"

"Show me."

Regulus lifted his shirt slowly, wincing in pain. Just above his navel, where the spell had hit him, there was a smoky black mark larger than Severus' hand. It looked if something had exploded within Regulus, charring his skin from the inside.

"She's cursed you," said Severus. "I'm not sure with what — could be a number of things." Off the top of his head, he could think of seven different spells that could produce similar effects. At least three were fatal, though he didn't think Regulus needed to know that.

"Thanks," muttered Regulus between clenched teeth. "Hugely helpful."

"Well, I'm not a Mediwizard," snapped Severus. "I suggest you see Madam Pomfrey if you want an actual diagnosis."

"Fantastic," panted Regulus, who looked like he was trying not to vomit. "Reckon this was a successful ambush, considering I ended up more injured than Dearborn was?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Lucius and Bella should never have put Mulciber in charge. The imbecile knows how to cast the godforsaken Imperius Curse, yet he decides to put his faith in the fact that he can _probably_ beat her in a duel. We deserved this outcome."

" _We_ ," repeated Regulus, the scepticism evident in his voice.

"You heard correctly," replied Severus acerbically. "I saw you try to Disarm her. You are just as culpable of the rest of us."

Regulus blanched, and for a moment looked like he was going to be sick. "I didn't — I didn't use force..."

Severus was spared having to respond to the idiocy of that statement as Mulciber returned with the other Secondaries in tow. A vein in Mulciber's jaw was pulsing dangerously. "She got away," he said shortly. "We couldn't find her."

"Well," said Severus nastily, "that certainly won't come back to haunt us."

Mulciber whirled towards Severus, swinging a fist through the air. Severus ducked on instinct, and Mulciber's fist collided with the wall.

Mulciber swore angrily, shaking his fist, but the pain seemed to calm him a bit. "No matter," he muttered, examining his bloody knuckles. "We'll try again. And next time, she won't get away so easily."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry it took me forever to post this chapter! I've been applying for a master's, which has required a ton of essay writing and left me totally burnt out on writing as a hobby. Back on track now, though!


	17. Parchment and Ink

The following Wednesday, Lily was cleaning the bedpans in the hospital wing when she heard the door creak open. She glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who was in the middle of casting an extremely complex Untransfiguration Charm on Davey Gudgeon, a Ravenclaw fourth year who had attempted to turn his fingers into dining utensils, with disastrous results. Madam Pomfrey paused her incantation just long enough to indicate that Lily should get the door.

Lily nodded, washed her hands, and pulled the door open. In front of her stood a tall, thin boy with straight dark hair, swaying as he clutched his stomach. He looked familiar; he was one of the new Slytherin prefects, wasn't he? She'd never spoken to him. During meetings, he always kept to himself, watching the other prefects with wary eyes.

The boy took an unsteady step forward, and Lily caught him. "Careful," she said. "Come on, I'll help you to a bed... that's it, easy now…" She kept her hand on his back as he staggered towards the nearest cot and collapsed onto the mattress.

Lily pulled the curtains closed and drew her wand. "I'm Lily Evans, Madam Pomfrey's apprentice," she said. "I've seen you in prefect meetings — remind me of your name?"

He glanced at her, his grey eyes bright with fever. "Regulus Black."

Lily nearly dropped her wand. Well, that explained a lot. He didn't look familiar because he was a prefect. He looked familiar because he was Sirius' younger brother.

"Oh," said Lily, feeling stupid. "Of course." She gripped her wand more tightly. "I need to examine you. Do you mind?"

Regulus shifted in the cot, looking away from her. He was silent for so long that she began to feel deeply embarrassed for even asking. He was a Black, one of the pure-blooded families that made up the Sacred Twenty-Eight. From what little she'd heard from Sirius, his relatives were all nasty pieces of work. Regulus would have recognized her blood status from her last name; he probably didn't want a Muggle-born touching him.

Finally, Regulus responded. He still wouldn't look at her. "Not… is Madam Pomfrey not… Does it have to be you?"

Lily's heart sank. "Madam Pomfrey in the middle of a complex Healing. I'm sure she'll examine you as soon as she can."

Regulus couldn't seem to get comfortable in the cot. He was probably in a considerable amount of pain, then. "How long… do you think…?"

"It's hard to say," said Lily. She hoped her voice sounded brisk and unaffected by his rejection. "Could be minutes, or a half hour. But if you're fine with waiting…"

Regulus took a moment to process this information. He seemed to be weighing the pain he was in against the indignity of being cared for by a Muggle-born. Finally, he grimaced. "You can… it's fine. Examine me."

Lily drew in a deep breath before responding. Sirius hadn't been wrong about his family being prejudiced. Regulus was clearly quite ill, but her pity for him was fading by the second. "Alright," she said. She'd start with the most obvious problem. "Are you having any pain?"

"Y-yes." Regulus' teeth were chattering.

"Where?"

"Stomach."

Lily hesitated. "Do you mind if I press on your stomach? It's to locate the pain."

Regulus' eyes met hers. He seemed as apprehensive as she was. "That's… fine." He rolled onto his back. As soon as she placed a hand on his midsection, he gasped.

"Sorry, sorry," said Lily hurriedly. She pressed down as gently as she could. "Do you know what happened? Was it something you ate, or…?"

"Curse," said Regulus. "It left… a mark." He gestured towards his abdomen.

Lily's breath caught, but she tried to remain calm. Curses that made you this ill were usually deadly. "Can I have a look?"

Regulus looked like he wanted to refuse, but he reached towards the collar of his robes. His hands were trembling so badly that he couldn't even undo the first set of buttons.

It was painful to watch. "Would you like my help?" asked Lily.

Regulus' hands stilled. After a moment, he nodded.

Lily carefully undid the buttons of his robes, down to his abdomen. There, directly above his navel, was what appeared to be a burn mark. She realized with a shudder that the wound was _moving_.

"Erm," she said. Curses were so far out of her league that she had no idea where to start. "When did —"

Regulus began to retch loudly. Lily jumped back as vomit splattered the cot and the floor.

"Let me just, erm, get Madam Pomfrey," she said, Vanishing the sick with a wave of her wand. "I'll be back, alright?"

Regulus sank back into the cot. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod.

Madam Pomfrey was still working on Davey Gudgeon, though he appeared to have reacquired human thumbs. "I'm sorry to interrupt," said Lily, placing a hand on Madam Pomfrey's shoulder, "but Regulus Black just came in, and he — he's been cursed. He doesn't look good, and I — I don't know what to do…"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and stood up. "Sit tight, Gudgeon," she said firmly. "I'll be back before you can say 'cutlery.' And no touching your face under any circumstances. Am I clear?"

"Why can't he touch his face?" asked Lily as she followed Madam Pomfrey to Regulus' cot.

"He's still got knives for fingers, the idiot," said Madam Pomfrey, drawing back the curtain around Regulus' cot. "Can't risk him putting an eye out, I'm not getting a new shipment of eyeballs till next week."

Madam Pomfrey took one look at Regulus' pale, shaking form and immediately began tracing complex wand movements above his bed. "When did this happen?" she asked Regulus.

"Saturday."

For an instant, Madam Pomfrey looked shocked, which scared Lily more than anything she'd seen so far; Madam Pomfrey _never_ lost her professional demeanour. "And you waited _four days_ before coming in? Foolish boy. Do you have a death wish?"

Regulus' breaths were short and shallow. "No. I thought… it might burn itself out. Some curses do."

"While other fester and kill," replied Madam Pomfrey. "Foolish, foolish boy." She passed her wand over the charred mark on Regulus' stomach, which began to smoke. Lily coughed as a very foul smell filled the air.

"Not pleasant, is it?" asked Madam Pomfrey, who seemed unaffected by the stench. "Dark Magic will do that. I suggest a Bubblehead Charm."

Lily complied, and Madam Pomfrey turned back towards Regulus. "This is going to hurt," she said. "I suggest sleeping through it."

Regulus nodded. His teeth were still chattering. Madam Pomfrey passed her wand over Regulus' face, and at once his eyes closed. His angular features relaxed, and the furrow between his brows faded.

Madam Pomfrey began to mutter in a language that sounded guttural. It was nothing like the other Healing Spells Lily had been exposed to, which sounded like songs. This was something entirely different. After a moment, the growl of another, deeper voice filled the air around them, and Lily's heart skipped a beat. The wound was _talking back_.

Thick black smoke began to pour out of the charred area of Regulus' stomach. "Leeches," said Madam Pomfrey, startling Lily. "Bring me a jar of leeches. Medicine cabinet, central shelf, bottom left."

It took Lily less than a minute to locate the jar. "Place one on the wound," said Madam Pomfrey. As soon as Lily placed the leech on Regulus' blackened stomach, it latched onto his skin. Lily felt a bit queasy as the leech began to swell, growing rounder and rounder.

Madam Pomfrey Vanished the leech right as it was about to burst. "Next." Lily carefully placed another leech where the first had been. She wasn't sure if she was imagining things, but the wound looked like it had gone from pitch black to a dark, dark grey.

In the end, it took more than twenty leeches to suck out the entirety of the curse. The scorched wound grew lighter and lighter until it had faded completely. Countless tiny bite marks were scattered across Regulus' abdomen, slowly oozing black bile.

"Would you like to try to heal the cuts?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Erm, if you're certain," said Lily, drawing her wand. "I mean curses, they scar easily. I wouldn't want to…" She trailed off. She'd only healed minor scrapes before. What would Regulus say if a Muggle-born left him permanently scarred?

"The curse has been removed," said Madam Pomfrey firmly. "What's left is well within your capabilities. When you have finished, you may wake him. In the meantime, I'll see to Davey."

Lily nodded, and Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind the curtains. Lily took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the bite marks. The Blacks would have her head if she mutilated one of their heirs. " _Carnes restituit_ ," she said softly, reciting the opening words to the _Vulnera sanentur_. She moved her wand in small, precise circles while she cast the spell. To her satisfaction, the cuts slowly closed, leaving only tiny, silver lines.

Lily let out a sigh of relief and pointed her wand at Regulus' face. " _Rennervate."_

Regulus' eyelids fluttered open, and he focused blearily on her face. "What…" he said, blinking. "You…"

"You're in the hospital wing," said Lily. Sometimes patients were disoriented upon waking. "Madam Pomfrey put you to sleep so that we could remove a curse. I'm her apprentice, Lily Evans."

Regulus' eyes widened in recognition. He looked down at his stomach, which bore no trace of the scorched mark.

"The scars should fade in a week or so," said Lily, flushing a little. "Madam Pomfrey could have closed the cuts better than I, but she had to tend to… some cutlery..."

Regulus' grey eyes met hers. "Thank you."

"I was glad to help."

"I didn't make it easy, did I?" said Regulus. "You're a good witch."

Lily's cheeks were burning. _He doesn't mean it_ , she told herself. Patients tended to be emotionally labile after waking up.

"Honestly?" she said. "I was half expecting you to refuse to let me even touch you."

Regulus' thin lips pressed together. It was almost a smile. "To tell you the truth, so was I."

They looked at each other for a moment. Lily broke the silence first. "Who did this, anyway? Someone in your House?"

"Someone in _your_ House," said Regulus. "And I deserved it."

"Nobody deserves a curse like that."

Regulus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "There are people out there who _absolutely_ deserve to be cursed. Bad people. Surely you, with your… heritage... would know that."

"Oh." She knew what he was implying. Death Eaters. "But you — you're not one of those people." At least, she didn't think so. Regulus was prejudiced, of course, but he was no Death Eater. "Right?"

Regulus looked away, saying nothing. After a moment, he tried to sit up, but Lily put a hand on his shoulder. "I think Madam Pomfrey wants you to spend the night. Just in case."

"Smart witch," said Regulus. "Both of you."

Heat began to rise up Lily's neck again. "I — er — if you're alright, I should probably go… See if Madam Pomfrey needs help…"

Regulus nodded, settling back down into the cot and closing his eyes. "I owe you, Lily."

Lily tried not to seem startled at the use of her first name. He was still waking up, after all. "Get some rest, Regulus."

* * *

At breakfast on Friday, Sirius was competing with James to see who could fit the most sausages in their mouths when an eagle owl soared low over the Gryffindor table and dropped a letter into Sirius' porridge.

James said something unintelligible around a mouthful of sausage and reached for the letter, but Sirius grabbed it first. He flipped the envelope over, noticed the return address, and promptly began to choke. Peter pounded Sirius on the back, but that only made the problem worse.

Remus drew his wand, looking mildly amused. " _Waddiwasi_."

A large piece of half-eaten sausage zoomed out of Sirius' mouth and splattered against the wall at the far end of the Great Hall.

Sirius massaged his throat. "Thanks," he said weakly.

"'Oo's the letter from, then?" asked James, swallowing loudly.

"Er," said Sirius. James could be annoyingly perceptive when he wanted to be. Sirius turned the envelope face-down and slid it into his bag. "No one important. Just junk mail."

"Oh, sure," said Peter. "I know _my_ junk mail is usually delivered via eagle owl."

Sirius knocked him in the back of the head, and Peter yelped. "Drop it, alright?" said Sirius. "It's nothing. Really."

Across the table, James frowned. "Didn't look like nothing."

Sirius threw up his arms, accidentally upending the plate of sausages. "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Nice Muggle history reference," said Remus approvingly. "You'll have that Muggle Studies N.E.W.T. in no time if you keep it up."

"Don't change the subject, Moony," said James. "Sirius. What's the deal with the letter?"

Sirius' stomach turned. Those sausages were not sitting well. "Fine. It's addressed from Grimmauld Place, so I'm assuming my wonderful parents wrote it, alright? Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Oh," said James. Peter let out a low whistle. "Shite. I'm sorry, mate, I didn't think —"

 _Of course you didn't._ Sirius bit back the retort. The Potters always sent James letters containing money or sweets. It must be nice. "No worries," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's not like I'm going to read the bloody thing."

"We could burn it, if you like," said Peter. "The Shrieking Shack's got a fireplace…"

Sirius forced himself to smile. "Sounds great, Pete. I'd suggest we go now, but…" He checked his watch. "I've got detention with Minnie in about five minutes."

Peter's brow furrowed. "You haven't said anything about —"

"Sure I did," said Sirius, hopping up from the table. "Can't trust that shoddy memory of yours, Wormy. Keep it up and you're getting a Remembrall for Christmas."

Sirius left the castle nearly at a sprint. It took several laps around Hagrid's hut as Padfoot before he calmed down enough to sit, in human form, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He glanced at his bag, which he'd flung on the ground a few feet away. A creamy corner of an envelope peeked out from the mouth of the bag.

Sirius wasn't sure why the thought of reading the letter was so unpleasant. His parents had been Obliviated, hadn't they? They probably weren't thrilled he'd left Grimmauld Place during the summer holidays, but whatever was in the letter couldn't possibly be _that_ bad.

Sirius decided not to risk it. He drew his wand. " _Incendio_."

His bag caught fire. Sirius watched it for a moment, satisfied, before he realized that their latest copy of the Hogwarts map was inside. He swore loudly and jumped to his feet, pointing his wand at the bag. " _Emorius lucerna_."

The fire snuffed out instantly, as if he had set a candle extinguisher over it. Sirius knelt and began to rummage through the scorched bag, wincing; its contents were still very hot. At last, he pulled out the map, which had been burnt beyond recognition.

Sirius said something very foul indeed. Flakes of ash fell through his fingers as he crumpled the remains of the map into a ball and chucked it into the Forbidden Forest.

The bright side, he decided on the way back to the castle, was that if the map hadn't survived the fire, there was no way his parent's letter had.

"Bad news," he said, sliding in beside James during Transfiguration. "The latest version of the map was, er, ruined during my detention."

James ran his hands through his hair in frustration, making it stick up in all directions. "Sirius, what the —? What happened?"

"Erm," said Sirius, "would you believe me if I said my detention involved fire?"

"Yes," said Peter.

"No," said James and Remus simultaneously.

"Great," said Sirius, "because that's definitely _not_ what happened —" He broke off as Professor McGonagall swept into the room, looking as austere as ever.

"Morning, Professor," said James brightly, stowing his bag under his chair. "Just wondering, did Sirius behave during his detention this morning?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed behind her spectacles. "Are you Confunded, Potter? Though I have had the honour of overseeing a tremendous amount of detentions served by Mr Black, he had no such detention today. At least not as of this lesson."

"Huh," said James, furrowing his brow in an exaggerated show of confusion. "Weird. Well, thanks, Professor. I'll be getting on with my Conjuring now."

"That face makes you look constipated," Sirius told him. "You're a prat, you know that?"

James flourished wand. "Ho hum, can't hear you… _Elicio artibus_ … Oh, bother, that wasn't quite right..." Instead of Conjuring a matchstick, a small black burn mark had appeared in the table.

Sirius smirked. Conjuring was the only bit of Transfiguration that gave James trouble. " _Elicio_ ," said Sirius, and an entire matchbox appeared in front of him.

"Well done, Black," said Professor McGonagall, approaching their table. James hurriedly dropped the rude hand gesture he'd been making at Sirius.

"Thanks," said Sirius, winking broadly at James. "I've actually got a question, Professor. I was wondering… do Animagi get urges?" Beside him, James groaned, but Sirius ignored him.

"Urges?" repeated Professor McGonagall. "I'm not sure what you mean, Black."

"You know," said Sirius. "When you turn into a cat, do you feel compelled to do things that cats do? Hunting mice, for example. Have you ever had a mouse craving?"

"I'm not sure how this is relevant to the task at hand," said Professor McGonagall with a pointed look at Sirius' matchbox.

Sirius shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm supremely interested in all aspects of Transfiguration. Comes with being a N.E.W.T. level student, you know…"

Professor McGonagall peered down her spectacles at him. Sirius tried to look innocent.

"I can't say I've ever felt compelled to consume rodents," she responded at last. "Does that answer your question?"

"Ha!" said James triumphantly once Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "I told you! If McGonagall doesn't get urges then neither do you. You owe me seven Galleons for that map you ate last week."

Sirius retaliated by Vanishing the single matchstick James had managed to Conjure. Unfortunately, that actually _did_ earn him detention with McGonagall.

After dinner that evening, Sirius gave his friends the slip and headed towards the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced on the second floor. Under the statue was a secret passage which led to a grotto by the lake. It had been raining all afternoon, and mist rose from the lake as Sirius sat on a large, mossy rock that jutted out over the water.

He glanced at his bag, considering chucking it in the lake. Finally, after a moment's hesitation, he reached inside and pulled out the envelope. Unlike the rest of his belongings, it didn't look singed at all.

Sirius frowned and reached for his wand. " _Incendio_."

The letter didn't burn. Flames licked harmlessly around the edges of the envelope. Sirius sighed deeply and put out the fire with a wave of his wand. His parents knew him too well. He shifted his weight, becoming Padfoot, and nosed the envelope into the lake. That was better; things didn't hurt so much as Padfoot. He curled up on the rock, his head on his paws, and watched the letter float away.

James found him a long time after sunset. He sat cross-legged beside Padfoot and ruffled his fur. The dog gave him a doleful look.

"That bad, eh?" asked James. "Where's the letter, then?"

Padfoot shifted his gaze towards the lake.

"Ah," said James. He raised his wand. " _Accio_." There was a ripple in the lake, and an envelope flew into his hands, dripping water. James flipped it over and let out a low whistle. "They even made it Impermeable, didn't they? What a bunch of bloody psychopaths." He rested a hand on the dog's back. "Mind if I read it? You don't think it's cursed, do you?"

Padfoot gave a doggy shrug, and James slit open the envelope. Padfoot could see the words written on the parchment inside, but they didn't make much sense to him. It was like reading Greek upside-down — he could do it, but it would take a while. He preferred not to read the letter anyway.

James' expression darkened as he scanned the parchment. "What're they playing at?" he said finally, tossing the letter aside. "I mean, they can't actually think —"

The dog sat up and became Sirius. He made a face and pulled his knees up to his chest. Being human was terrible sometimes. At least as Padfoot he hadn't known _why_ he felt so miserable. "What's it say?"

"It's a heap of rubbish."

"Prongs. What's it say?"

Reluctantly, James reached for the letter. "Alright, but you promise you won't let it get to you?"

"Sure."

James looked like he wanted to respond, but he unfolded the parchment. "It's from your mum. Basically, it says that they love you and forgive you for running away from home — as long as you promise to do what they say from now on."

"That doesn't make sense," says Sirius. "I mean, the bit about me doing whatever they say does, they've wanted that since forever. But does she really say she loves me?"

"More or less," said James. "This bit here, for example. ' _Our Lord seeks to target Hogwarts, and with your allegiance in question we cannot guarantee your safety. I cannot sleep for worry over you, and your father is unable to concentrate on his work. Please request a transfer into Slytherin; it would set my heart at ease, and we would welcome you home with open arms for Christmas. Think of it as a fresh start_ — _for your future, for our family. I must see you home for Christmas, my son, my beloved firstborn.'"_

Sirius wrapped his arms around his knees and was silent for a minute. Somehow, even when his mother was being nice she still upset him. "Laying it on a bit thick, isn't she?"

"Not her usual tactics," agreed James. "You know the old saying, though — it's easier to catch pixies with honey than with vinegar."

"She can't actually think I'd be stupid enough to fall for that," said Sirius. "I'm not about to run back to her just because she called me her _beloved firstborn_."

"You wouldn't think, but there's no telling with your family."

Sirius' eyes were fixed on the lake. "D'you think it's true?" he asked finally. "What she's saying about What's-His-Name targeting Hogwarts?"

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," said James. "I'm sure he'd love to get into the castle, it'd be terrible for morale. But that doesn't mean your hag of a mum is telling the truth. She'd say anything to manipulate you."

Sirius said nothing, but leaned over and rested his head on James' shoulder. "I'm not going to ask Dumbledore to put me in Slytherin."

"Are you sure?" said James. "Sounds like you'll miss out on your mum's fantastic Christmas pies if you stay in Gryffindor. Didn't she put troll meat in them last year?"

Sirius snorted. "That was Reg's theory. Personally, I think it was centaur. I found a hoof."

James swore. "Insane old hag." He put an arm around Sirius. "Want me to Vanish this bloody letter?"

"Good luck," said Sirius. "It's got protective charms on it. Can't be Vanished. Can't be burnt or ripped, either."

"I see," said James. "There's only one thing for it, then." He pulled out his wand, Transfigured the ball of parchment into a jelly bean, and swallowed it.

Sirius stared at James. "You are _mental_."

James shrugged, looking quite pleased with himself. "There're loopholes everywhere, mate. Anyway, I've got a bottle of Gillywater to wash that down with in the dormitory. You in?"

* * *

Regulus went to the hospital wing on Wednesday at Severus' urging, and he didn't reappear for more than a week. At dinner the following Thursday, Severus spotted Regulus at the far end of the Slytherin table, looking noticeably thinner and picking at his roast beef.

Severus slid next to Regulus on the bench. "How are you feeling?"

Regulus examined his plate for a moment before turning towards Severus. "Fine. Couldn't keep down any food for about a week. But I'm not dead, so…"

"Well, if you're looking for pity, you won't find it here," said Severus. "I told you to go to Pomfrey sooner. Curses like that fester."

Regulus turned back to his roast beef. "You have quite the comforting presence. Has anyone ever told you?"

Severus ignored the jab. "You might be interested to know that Mulciber's got detention every weekend from now until the end of the month. Full days, too — he has to sort Filch's filing cabinets."

Regulus arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Dearborn went to McGonagall?"

"Looks that way."

Regulus took a deliberate bite of roast beef, chewing very slowly. Finally, he swallowed and said, "Why was Mulciber the only one punished?"

"Dearborn didn't have proof about anyone else," said Severus. "Avery told McGonagall he and Rosier were attempting to stop the duel. ' _As a prefect,'_ he said, you know that prattish voice he puts on, utterly insufferable. Dearborn didn't even bring up Wilkes' name — I don't think she recognized him under his disguise. And I was Disillusioned, of course."

"I should have been clearer," said Regulus. "Why was _I_ not punished?"

"Well," said Severus bitingly, "your pathetic attempt at Disarming her aside, you didn't actually _do_ anything."

Regulus stared at him. "I _lured_ Sally to Mulciber," he said, lowering his voice. "She knows I did."

"If McGonagall thought you had any hand in the attack, I'm sure you would be in detention alongside Mulciber. As it stands, all you did was report a duel to the Head Girl and cast a Disarming Charm that may have been intended for someone else."

"Why did she curse me, then? If she thought I was on her side?"

Severus, utterly bored with Regulus' anxieties, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Maybe she got jumpy and overreacted. They say her father sees assassins everywhere. His outlook might have rubbed off on her."

"I doubt that," said Regulus. "She wouldn't —"

"— Or maybe she feels guilty for having cursed you and doesn't want McGonagall to find out she used Dark Magic," continued Severus, speaking over him. "Using a curse like that doesn't paint the Head Girl in a very flattering light, does it?"

"I don't know. She doesn't seem —"

"Look," said Severus bluntly. "If you are truly concerned about why she didn't report you, then I suggest you ask her what, exactly, she was thinking."

Regulus blanched and pushed his plate away. "I think the events of that weekend speak for themselves. It was a mistake to join your… group."

Severus decided that Regulus deserved more than just an eye-roll. "Too soft for the Dark Lord, are you?" he said, sneering. "I wonder what Orion and Walburga will have to say when they find out their second son is just as much a disappointment as the first. Think they'll bother trying for a third?"

Regulus looked quite queasy now. "That won't be necessary. I'll let them know —"

"No, don't trouble yourself," said Severus, taking a quill and parchment out of his bag. "I'll owl Bella for you. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform your parents that Following just isn't for you."

Regulus' grey eyes narrowed. "That's blackmail," he said, his voice rising. "You don't honestly think you can force me —"

"Oh, spare me," Severus snapped. "You get hit by one curse and suddenly what your parents require of you is too _dangerous_ —"

"WELL, I'M NOT THE GRYFFINDOR OF THE FAMILY, AM I?!" shouted Regulus. His plate shattered, sending bits of roast beef everywhere.

The table grew quiet. Severus looked around; most of the Slytherin table was watching them with mild interest. Across the Great Hall, Sirius Black had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Wonderful," said Severus sarcastically as Sirius got up from his table and began to stride towards them. "Really excellent, Regulus, some temper your family's got —"

"What's going on here?" asked Sirius, sounding like he was trying to be casual and failing miserably at it. "Are you upsetting my brother, Snape?"

"I can handle this," said Regulus through gritted teeth. "Go back to your table, Sirius —"

"No, I don't think I will," said Sirius loudly. "Why don't you and I take a stroll, little brother?"

Regulus said nothing. After a moment, he got up slowly from the table, acting for all the world as if Severus wasn't there. Severus watched them walk away, wishing that they weren't surrounded by hundreds of witnesses. He'd like nothing better than to curse both of them. Regulus Black was just as much an idiot as his brother, it seemed.

Before going to bed, Severus penned a brief letter to Bella, sending it via a shabby-looking school owl. At breakfast the following morning, a handsome eagle owl landed directly on Regulus' toast. In its beak was a dark red envelope which appeared to be smoking slightly.

Regulus stared at the letter as the edges of the envelope blackened and curled. Avery elbowed him hard in the ribs, which seemed to bring Regulus to his senses. He reached for the letter, his expression blank, and slit it open.

Severus' glass of pumpkin juice began to shake as the voice of Walburga Black reverberated throughout the Great Hall.

"— SQUANDERING THE OPPORTUNITY YOUR COUSIN HAS SET BEFORE YOU, I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO ASHAMED — I SEE NOW WE HAVE RAISED A SPOILED BRAT WHO THINKS HE CAN DO AS HE PLEASES, TAKING THE FAMILY COMPLETELY FOR GRANTED — DISGRACING THE HOUSE OF OUR FOREBEARS — EVEN YOUR BROTHER HAS A SPINE, BUT THAT FAMILY TRAIT THAT SEEMS TO HAVE PASSED YOU BY COMPLETELY —"

At the five minute mark, Severus tuned the Howler out, as it had become somewhat repetitive. Regulus continued to stare at the shrieking letter with the same blank expression. As Severus ate his porridge, he felt a rare moment of gratitude for his own parents, who had never been involved enough in his life to care if he made anything of himself.

The Howler finally spluttered itself into ashes, and Severus chanced a glance at the Gryffindor table. To his surprise, Sirius' gaze was not fixed on Regulus, but on an expensive-looking envelope he was holding in his hands.

That evening, Severus arrived in Dungeon Thirteen half an hour before Mulciber had required them to meet. Regulus was already there; he stood in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the crackling flames.

"So?" asked Severus.

The glow from the fire threw Regulus' angled features into sharp relief. His cheekbones looked especially sunken after his bout with the curse. "You're looking at your newest Intent."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Severus. "It's the right choice." He moved towards the fireplace until they were standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. "Why are you so reluctant?" he asked at last.

Regulus sighed. "I just don't see why Intenting is necessary. I'm not — I'm not like you, or the others."

Well, that much was obvious. But Severus was supposed to recruit Regulus, and he didn't think mocking him would help. "You're not like us in what way?"

"You know," said Regulus. "I just want to be — normal, I guess. I'll donate money to the Dark Lord when I'm older, if he wants. But I don't want to — to fight, or to curse other people. I don't see why I can't support the cause in a different way."

"In other words, you want to waffle," said Severus. "You want to be a supporter without actually lending any support to the cause."

Regulus' mouth tightened. "You make me sound like a coward."

Severus didn't respond. He wasn't interested in reassuring Regulus with falsehoods.

After a minute, Regulus spoke again. "There're other people in Slytherin who keep their heads down. They don't take sides, and nobody bothers them. Why can't I be like that?"

"You're a Black," said Severus. "Obviously."

"It's not obvious to me."

"Let me spell it out for you, then," said Severus. "As the heir to the Blacks, you have almost unfathomable access to several things. Money. Influence. Power. The other Slytherins do not."

"My brother is the heir," mumbled Regulus, but he didn't argue the point.

"You know," said Severus, figuring he might as well have a bit of pity on Regulus, "I tried to avoid taking sides last year. It turned out… poorly."

Regulus glanced at him. "I heard about that."

"I believe the entire Wizarding World will have to choose a side, and soon," said Severus. "That's why it's better to do it now. And better to choose our side."

Regulus was looking at him inquisitively. "Do you really think the Dark Lord will win?"

"I do," said Severus, slightly surprised to find that it was the truth. "I grew up with Muggles. I've seen what they are capable of. The Dark Lord has the right idea — we ought to subjugate them, for the good of all society. Besides, it's obvious that the side that uses Dark Magic will be the one that prevails."

Regulus' expression was inscrutable as he watched the flames flickering in the hearth. _A natural-born Occlumens_ , thought Severus.

"If I become a Follower," said Regulus, "does that make me evil? Even if I don't do bad things?"

"Stop being dramatic," said Severus. "Evil doesn't have a side. Isn't it evil that your brother hexes Slytherins whenever he gets the opportunity? Isn't it evil that we've never had a Muggle-born Minister for Magic? When my father takes a belt to my mother, which one of them is doing evil, the Muggle or the witch? And who will bring her justice?"

Regulus was silent for a long time.

"You and I are pawns," said Severus. "The side we choose doesn't matter. We simply have to survive as best we can."

At last, Regulus spoke. "I hope you're right."

"I am," said Severus. "You'll see."


	18. The Cartography Club

Gryffindor's Quidditch tryouts took place on Saturday morning and were a formality, as far as James was concerned. He only needed to fill a single Chaser position, since Hana Suzuki had graduated the previous year. The rest of the team was strong enough that James doubted he'd find anyone better during tryouts. In the end, he ended up simply moving Otis Podmore from Beater to Chaser, allowing Sirius to take up the now-vacant Beater position.

"Cheers, mate," said Sirius in the changing room afterwards. "Commentating was fun and everything, but I'm looking forward to being back on the pitch where I belong."

Marlene McKinnon, Gryffindor's other Beater, held up her hand for a high-five. "The Dream Team is back!"

"Right, bring it in," said James, motioning for the team to gather round. "Practices will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, starting next week —"

Sirius let out a loud groan. James raised an eyebrow. "Forgotten what discipline feels like, eh, Black?"

"I'm disciplined," said Sirius defensively. "Just not at six in the morning. I need my beauty sleep."

"Right," asked James, "and _I_ need the Quidditch Cup to stay in McGonagall's office where it belongs."

"Hear, hear," said Marlene. Parvana caught James' eye and raised an imaginary toast.

James grinned at them. "Glad we're all on the same page. I'll see you lot on Monday so we can make my dream a reality."

Parvana caught up to James as he was leaving the pitch. "Did you catch the Magpies' match against Wimbledon this summer?"

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," said James. "My dad got us box tickets."

Parvana's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "He did _not_."

"Perks of consulting with the Ministry."

"I'm so jealous," said Parvana. "You saw Fabius Watkins' Dionysus Dive in person, then?"

"Yeah," he said. " _Incredible_ flying. I was gonna talk to you about it, actually. I think you could pull it off during our match with Slytherin, if we played our cards right…"

"Me, too," said Parvana. "Great minds think alike, I suppose." She reached up to undo her braid.

James watched her brush out her hair with her fingers. It occurred to him for the first time that Parvana was a girl. A girl who was a talented Quidditch player. "Erm," he said, "d'you have any plans for today? Homework, or something?"

Parvana shook her head. "I just need to finish Flitwick's essay on nonverbal Banishing Spells. What did you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise," said James. "Meet me on top of the Astronomy tower around four. And bring your broom."

That afternoon, Parvana arrived at the Astronomy tower only a couple of minutes after James did. She carried her Cleansweep Five over her shoulder. "What're we doing?" she asked. "Flying to the moon?"

James laughed. "Hardly. I think Dumbledore's office has a secret entrance, and I'm going to find it. You in?"

"Isn't it against the rules to go flying about the castle, peering into windows?" asked Parvana, but she swung a leg over her broomstick.

"Scared of a little detention, are you?"

Parvana pulled up on the handle of her broom in response and disappeared over the parapet. James grinned and followed her. It took them no time at all to circle around to the Headmaster's tower.

"What makes you think Dumbledore's office has got a secret entrance?" asked Parvana, scanning the tower's stonework.

"Well, he likes to travel to the Ministry by broom, doesn't he?" said James. "You think he'd leave via the Astronomy tower, in that case — it's the tallest tower at Hogwarts. But nobody's ever seen him up there. In fact, nobody even knows what sort of broom he rides."

"I bet it's a Tinderblast," said Parvana, and James snorted. Tinderblasts were famous for their quirks and prone to bursting into flames at random intervals.

"Likely," said James, tugging downwards on his broomstick. "I think that's the window to Dumbledore's office, there, look…"

As they hovered outside the window, they pressed their faces to the glass, peering inside. The office appeared to be empty; Fawkes was perched in a corner, head tucked under a wing.

"Excellent, he's out," said James. "Now put those fantastic Seeker eyes of yours to good work and help me find the secret entrance."

Parvana's cheeks flushed slightly, but she nodded, circling the tower. James flew to the top of the tower and examined the row of gargoyles that lined the parapet. He cast anti-concealment charms on the statues, but couldn't detect any traces of hidden magic.

After nearly half an hour, Parvana gave a triumphant shout. James flew down to meet her where she was hovering outside Dumbledore's office. "Did you figure out the secret entrance?"

"Not quite," said Parvana happily. "But I think we'll find out soon. Look…" She gestured towards the horizon. James squinted, trying to avoid the glare from the setting sun. He could just make out a tiny speck far in the distance. It was so small it could have been a smudge on his glasses.

"Think that's him?" asked James.

"I'm certain of it," said Parvana. "He's riding a Tinderblast, can't you see?"

James glanced back toward the speck. It was so far off it seemed impossible to glean the broomstick type. "Whatever you say, Eagle Eyes."

Parvana blushed. She looked away from James quickly, biting her lip. "We should probably hide."

"Let's go up behind the gargoyles," said James. "We'll still have a good view of his office from there."

As they crouched behind the gargoyles, James pulled out what looked like a silvery handkerchief from his pocket and gave it a shake. Immediately, the Invisibility Cloak grew in size until it was large enough for James to drape around himself and Parvana.

Parvana looked astonished. "You've got an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yeah, it's a family heirloom," said James. "Comes in bloody handy, I'll tell you that. Though this one's a bit finicky." It had taken him the better part of a week and several trips to the library before he had managed to shrink the Cloak to the size of a handkerchief, and he still didn't know why it couldn't be Summoned.

Parvana hummed thoughtfully. She pulled the edge of the Cloak over her broom, which lay on the ground beside her. "That explains a lot, actually."

James winked at her and looked out over the parapet. The figure was coming into view now. "You were right, it _is_ Dumbledore! He's almost here."

They watched, tense with anticipation, as Dumbledore flew closer and closer. "This is it," whispered James. "Any minute now, and we'll know…"

Dumbledore raised his wand as he approached the tower. Parvana squeezed James' arm. Dumbledore muttered something under his breath — the password to the secret entrance?

As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, the window to the Headmaster's office flung open with a rattle. Dumbledore flew inside. The window closed behind him, latching itself shut.

James and Parvana looked at each other.

"Well," said Parvana, "I suppose the window _was_ the most obvious option for a secret exit."

James laughed incredulously, running his hands through his hair. "I'm an idiot. I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"You're not an idiot," said Parvana. "A bit overly imaginative, maybe…"

James raised his eyebrows. "You're too nice to me. You know how badly my mates would be taking the mickey right now?" He pulled out the latest version of the map from his robes and unfolded it. " _Stilus,_ " he murmured, and his wand began to drip with ink.

Parvana leaned in towards the parchment until their heads were nearly touching. "You're making a map of Hogwarts?"

"Something like that," said James proudly. "You're looking at the Head of the Hogwarts Cartography Club."

"I didn't realize Hogwarts had a Cartography Club."

"Oh, it's been around forever," said James. "Ask Binns, he's our sponsor."

"Can I join?" asked Parvana hopefully.

"Er," said James. "Membership's full, unfortunately." There was no way Sirius would agree to let Parvana help with the map. It was a shame — she really did have keen eyes.

He touched the tip of his wand to the upper left-hand corner of the parchment. The words ' _No secret flying entrance, don't bother'_ appeared in an untidy scrawl next to Dumbledore's office.

"You know," said Parvana, " _Hogwarts: A History_ has a map…"

"We've already tried that," said James. "Bought out Tomes and Scrolls' entire stock last Hogsmeade weekend. Unfortunately, none of the copies survived contact with my mates."

Parvana whistled. "Wow."

"Yeah," said James. "So I'm trying a new tactic. Starting the map from scratch. I even made the parchment." He'd had a bit of inspiration from Walburga Black's indestructible letter, not that he'd ever admit it to Sirius.

Parvana ran her fingers over the creamy parchment. "Amazing," she said softly. "You're really talented."

"So they tell me," said James. He tried to sound effortlessly breezy, but the joke fell flat.

Parvana looked up at him. She was so close he could hear her breathing, light and quick. It occurred to James that they were quite well-hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. He suddenly felt very shy.

"Erm," he said, "should we head back? I've, er, got a thing — N.E.W.T.s, you know —"

Parvana's face fell ever so slightly, but she nodded and stood, brushing off the Invisibility Cloak.

James spent the entire walk back to Gryffindor Tower kicking himself.

* * *

On Sunday, Lily woke early, hoping to finish her Potions essay on Hiccoughing Solutions before the prefect meeting at noon. Severus had gotten a higher mark than her on their last assignment — he'd left his parchment in plain sight — and she was determined not to let that happen again.

The clock above the mantle in the Gryffindor common room struck twelve and began to chime. Lily looked up from her essay and swore; she'd lost track of the time. A group of nearby first years giggled.

Lily frowned at them. "Two points from Gryffindor." The first years' smiles vanished, replaced by looks of horror.

Lily left the common room and made for the staffroom on the ground floor, feeling somewhat gratified. She remembered being eleven years old and terrified to lose House points. _Potter and his mates never minded, though_ , she thought. Even when they were first years, they'd thought getting in trouble was funny.

Inside the staffroom, Chester Fernsby, the Head Boy, was giving a lecture about enforcing curfew. He shot her a disappointed look as she took her place next to Remus.

Remus elbowed her gently. "You're late."

"Lost track of time," Lily replied out of the corner of her mouth. "But if Fernsby asks, I'm having terrible cramps. My time of the month, you know."

Remus smiled wryly. "That's my go-to as well."

Lily let out a quiet laugh, then stopped abruptly. _Did he just —_

"Sally and I are finishing up next month's patrol schedule," continued Chester Fernsby. "Please take a look at it and let Sally or myself know if you have any scheduling conflicts." He indicated the large sheet of parchment lying on the staff table, and the other prefects surged forward to get a look. Someone jostled Lily and she turned, annoyed.

"Oh," she said when she saw who it was. "Er, hi."

"Hello," said Regulus Black, who looked quite tall and much healthier than the last time she had seen him. Well, _much_ was a bit of an overstatement. He still looked rather wan, and his lips were pale. But at least he didn't look like he was dying.

"You look… better," she offered. Heat rose up her neck.

Regulus looked vaguely amused. "It's incredible what Healing can do for a person."

"Madam Pomfrey's a miracle worker."

"I hear she had help," said Regulus. They reached the front of the queue, and Regulus bent over the schedule, running a finger down it. He made a thoughtful noise. "You're paired with Lupin and Fortescue this month." His eyes darted towards her. "Pity."

"Is it, now, Regulus?" asked a voice. Sally Dearborn was standing at the head of the staff table, her arms crossed. Lily shrank a little. Sally may have been shorter than she was, but her intensity could be scary. She was a bit like Marlene that way.

Regulus straightened at once. What little colour he had drained from his face. "Sally. I —"

"No, go on." Sally's voice was steely. "I'd love to hear more about what's wrong with the patrol schedule I've spent hours putting together."

"Nothing — nothing's wrong with it," said Regulus. "I just thought, you know, I have friends in other Houses, and —"

"Don't make me laugh," said Sally. Her eyes flicked from Regulus to Lily. "And you're mad if you think I'd pair you with a Muggle-born. Looking for someone new for target practice, are you?"

"That's not — I'm not —" spluttered Regulus. He ran a hand through his hair. "Never mind, alright?"

"Good answer," said Sally. "The schedule stays as it is, then."

"What was that about?" Lily asked Regulus once they were out of Sally's earshot. "It's a little early in the year to be on her bad side, don't you think?"

Regulus made a jerking movement that might have been an attempt at a shrug. "It's not… I don't know. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe."

His evasiveness reminded her uncomfortably of Severus' half-truths from the year before. Lily's heart sank. "What did Sally mean by _target practice_?"

Regulus looked at her, his expression pained. That was all the answer she needed.

"Right," said Lily. "Forget I asked. Say hi to Mulciber for me, will you?"

She walked away before he could respond, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She rejoined Remus and placed her hand on his arm. "Fancy walking back to the tower with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said Remus. He waved good-bye to a pair of Ravenclaw prefects and they ducked out of the staffroom. "How's your patrol schedule looking, then?" Remus asked innocently as they climbed the hidden staircase that led to the second floor.

Lily looked at him incredulously. His expression was one of polite interest. "Is that Remus-speak for 'I saw you and Regulus pissing off Sally Dearborn and am dying to know the details'?"

Remus smiled. "I didn't realize you were fluent. Though of course there are shades of meaning that are lost in translation."

"Such as?"

"Well, I didn't realize you and Regulus knew each other, for a start," said Remus, skipping over the trick step on the staircase.

"We don't, really," said Lily. The climb to the second floor was making her heart pound. "I met him recently. He came to the hospital wing while I was there for my apprenticeship."

"You know," said Remus, "there are romance novels about patients and Healers. It's a very popular genre, I've heard."

His tone was mild, but Lily's heart beat even faster. "That's _not_ what happened."

"Of course not," said Remus. "I was just making an observation."

"Well, your observation doesn't apply," said Lily. "Not to mention, Sally said something about 'target practice', and he went all funny. Like he felt guilty about something. He wouldn't tell me what she was referring to, but I'm not stupid. I can read between the lines."

Remus' brow creased. "So can I."

"I'm not getting involved with Death Eater rubbish again," said Lily. She felt tears threatening to well up in her eyes. "I had enough of that last year with… well, you know."

Remus hummed a little. "Do you really think Regulus is falling in with that lot?"

"What else am I supposed to think?"

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Remus muttered the password — " _Semper fortis"_ — and they crawled in through the portrait hole. A small crowd had gathered near the bulletin board, where Peter Pettigrew was floating in the air, wearing a set of dress robes. James and Sirius appeared to be playing Muggle tennis with him, using their wands as rackets and Peter as the ball.

Lily watched Peter soar from one end of the room to the other, the ruffles on his dress robes fluttering. "I thought magic couldn't make people fly."

"It can't," said Remus. "At least, not until tonight. Never underestimate Sirius and James when they're bored."

"And they use this newfound magical discovery to play tennis," said Lily. "Your friends are idiots. Brilliant, but idiots."

"That's part of their appeal," said Remus. "They make me look quite good in comparison."

Lily snuck a glance at Remus, who appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in following Peter's trajectory through the air. "Are you going to tell Sirius about Regulus?" she asked. "About what he might be involved in?"

Remus gave her an affectionate smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, Lily. I'm sure he already knows."

* * *

Sirius was quite pleased to have figured out the magic that made his motorbike fly. _Dorcas's motorbike_ , he corrected himself guiltily. He still didn't know what had happened to her. He had a nasty feeling Kreacher had found a loophole in his orders and had harmed her. He tried not to think about it too much.

He and James spent the following week pushing the limits of what could be charmed to fly. They started with Peter's dress robes and expanded from there. By Thursday, it took them all of ten minutes to make every chair in the Potions classroom do slow laps of the dungeon, hovering five feet off the ground. Professor Slughorn's delight at their cleverness had lasted nearly half the period but had ultimately been dampened by the realization that, once charmed, there was no way to bring the flying objects back to the ground. Slughorn had subsequently made a halfhearted attempt to punish them by asking that they stay after class to clean out the supply closet.

"Next Hogsmeade weekend's at the end of November," Peter reminded them for the third time as he Vanished the cobwebs from a shelf. "I think the Christmas line at Gladrags will be out, if you lot feel like getting me some new dress robes…"

"There's nothing wrong with your robes, Wormtail," said Sirius. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to see how many jars of pond slime he could juggle at once.

"Excuse me," said Peter. "They're flying around our dormitory as we speak."

"First Sluggy, now you," said James. He was hovering ten feet in the air, balancing precariously on his newly-charmed copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. "Nobody recognizes genius around here."

"There are children in Africa who haven't got any robes at all," added Remus, who was ostensibly supervising them. "How do you think they'd feel to know that in Britain there are blokes who throw away a perfectly good set of dress robes just because they fly?"

"I hate you all," said Peter. "You're buying me new robes or I'm telling McGonagall who turned Bertram Aubrey into a hamster."

"I'd like nothing more than to buy you new robes, Pete," said Remus. "Unfortunately, I haven't got any money."

"Me neither," said Sirius.

"I'm calling your bluff," said Peter. "I'm going to tell McGonagall about Bertram after lunch."

"You can tell Minnie whatever you like," said Sirius. "I happen to have eyewitness proof that I was reading in the library while poor Bertie was growing whiskers on the third floor."

"You're joking," said Peter. "You were _there_! I saw you do it!"

"'Fraid not," said Sirius, adding another jar to his juggling routine. "Your eyes are playing tricks on you again, Pete." The jar slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground, shattering. Sirius swore loudly and hurled the remaining jars towards James, who dodged them easily. The textbook he was balancing on barely wobbled.

"Skinny git," said Sirius. "How do you move so fast?"

"Tell it to the Montrose Magpies," said James, preening a little. "You can write my letter of introduction. Speaking of, I hope you can aim a Bludger better than _that_ when we face Slytherin."

Sirius' expression darkened. "I'll have no problem breaking a few Death Eater bones. Trust me. "

"How's Regulus doing, by the way?" asked Remus, as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Terrible, I assume," said Sirius, looking around for another jar he could throw. "If last week's Howler was anything to go by."

"Yeah, that was weird," said James. "I thought you were the problem child."

"So did I," said Sirius. "But they're sending me love letters all of a sudden. It doesn't make any sense."

"You've gotten more, then?" asked Remus. "Apart from the first letter?"

"Yeah," said Sirius sourly. "She sent flowers with the last one." He jabbed his wand at the jar of armadillo bile Peter was holding, and the jar exploded. Peter yelped as runny yellow liquid soaked the front of his robes.

"Padfoot," said James disapprovingly. He Vanished the mess with a wave of his wand. "It's not Pete's fault you've got a pair of maniacs for parents."

"Nah, I don't mind," said Peter. "If these had been my dress robes, though…"

Sirius laughed. "That gives me an idea, actually."

"Godric's teeth," said Peter. "Leave people's robes alone, will you?"

"Talk about a one-track mind, Pete," said Sirius, standing up and dusting off his knees. "It's nothing to do with robes. I think I know how to get some answers out of my lunatic family." He looked at Remus, batting his eyes. "May I be excused, Prefect Lupin?"

Remus looked vaguely disapproving, but he waved his hand. "Go on, then. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Sirius grinned. "You're giving me free rein, then. Excellent."

He took the steps to the Owlery two at a time and scanned the rafters for James' owl, Palatine. He spotted it asleep near the top of the Owlery, a grey bundle of feathers with a flat face. Sirius whistled, holding up a treat in his hands, and Palatine stirred. It swooped down to land on the perch beside Sirius.

"Good owl," said Sirius, letting Palatine nip at the treat. "This'll just take a second, then…" He pulled a bit of parchment and a quill out of his bag and began to write.

 _Andromeda,_

 _Just wondering if you've heard anything from Uncle Cygnus about my parents. They've been sending some strange post to Hogwarts lately. I'd ask them myself, but we're not exactly on the best of terms. Which you've probably heard about already._

 _Anyway, write me if you know what they're up to. Hope you're well._

 _Your favourite cousin,_

 _Sirius_

The following morning at breakfast, Sirius was surprised to see Palatine among the flock of owls circling the Great Hall. "That was quick," he said as the owl landed on the table in front of him, a roll of parchment tied to its leg.

"Who'd you write to, then?" asked James, who was eating his fifth boiled egg of the morning. Protein for Quidditch, he'd told them.

"'Dromeda," said Sirius, unfurling the scroll. "Figured she'd know —" He broke off, staring at the parchment.

"What is it?" asked Remus.

"It's my letter," said Sirius. "The one I sent yesterday. I guess Palatine couldn't find her."

James stopped peeling his sixth egg and frowned. "That's weird. You don't think she might have been… hurt or anything, do you?"

"There's no way," said Sirius. "It would have been in the papers if something had happened to her. She's a _Black_." He glanced at Remus. "You're our designated _Prophet_ reader — there hasn't been anything written about her, has there?"

Remus shook his head. "A family of Muggles in Essex vanished last week, but that was the most recent disappearance. Nothing about the Blacks."

Sirius relaxed. "Good."

"Is there anyone else in your family you can write?" asked Peter.

"Just one," said Sirius, deflating a bit. "My Uncle Alphard." He'd really been hoping to avoid writing to Alphard. He didn't want to bring up the events of the summer.

"You've always said he was alright," said James, resuming peeling his egg.

"Yeah, I guess," said Sirius. He reluctantly pulled out a quill and began a new letter to his uncle.

 _Uncle Alphard,_

 _Have my parents been acting funny lately? Funnier than usual, I mean. Think they might have gotten Regulus and me mixed up — they're sending Howlers to him and love letters to me. It's probably nothing, but I thought I'd ask._

— _Sirius_

 _P.S. I tried to write to Andromeda, but the owl couldn't find her. I don't suppose you know anything about that, either?_

 _P.P.S. Regulus told me about what you did for me over the summer. Thanks, I guess._

Uncle Alphard's response arrived a few days later and was equally brief.

 _Sirius,_

 _It's good to hear from you. Yes, I know what happened to Andromeda, and I believe it explains the behaviour of your parents, but it's best we speak about it in person. When is your next Hogsmeade weekend? We can meet in the Three Broomsticks._

— _Alphard_

 _P.S. You're welcome. Don't make it a habit._

"Cryptic, isn't he?" asked James, reading over Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius snorted. "He's a Black. 'Dramatic' runs in the family." A pair of handsome eagle owls clutching creamy white envelopes in their beak landed next to him on the table, and Sirius groaned. "More letters from mummy dearest. Want to do me the honour, Prongs?"

"Thought you'd never ask," said James. He Transfigured the letters into tiny white eggs and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed, making a face. "Tastes like paper."

"Imagine that," said Remus as he buttered a piece of toast. "Are you going to meet your uncle, then, Sirius?"

Sirius shooed his parents' owls away from the table. "I guess it can't hurt."

"How crazy is he, on a scale of one to Walburga?" asked Peter.

"Maybe a three," said Sirius. "He's probably the least mental family member I've got — He works for the Ministry, even."

"That doesn't mean much," said Peter. "Mulciber's father works for the Ministry, and he's an idiot."

Sirius looked disdainfully towards the Slytherin table. "Mulciber's father weighs wands at the Security Desk. Uncle Alphard, on the other hand — he's an Obliviator."

Peter whistled, and Remus' eyes widened. "An Obliviator? Surely your family doesn't… take advantage of his talents?"

Sirius and James exchanged a glance. "Not that I'm aware of," said Sirius. "Though if I _had_ been Obliviated, I wouldn't remember, would I?" He smirked at his joke, but Remus continued to look worried.

That evening, Sirius attached a final letter to Palatine's leg.

 _Uncle Alphard,_

 _Glad someone knows what's going on, at least. We go to Hogsmeade on the twenty-eighth of November._

 _See you in the Three Broomsticks._

— _Sirius_

* * *

On Sunday evening, Severus huddled in a corner of the Slytherin common room with the other Followers, waiting for Mulciber to return from detention. Rosier and Wilkes were engrossed in an aggressive game of Wizard's Chess, while Avery stood behind Wilke's chair, offering encouragement to both sides. Regulus watched silently, sketching the white queen in his journal and frowning occasionally at what he perceived to be a bad play.

Severus was only half-paying attention to the game; he was focused on making annotations in the margins of his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. He dipped his quill in ink and turned to the page titled 'Elixir to Induce Euphoria'. _Add a sprig of peppermint_ , he wrote. He was bent so low over the book that his nose was nearly touching the page. _Counteracts the side-effects of singing and —_

Regulus nudged him with his foot and Severus looked up. Mulciber was looming over their table. A drop of dark red landed on the chessboard.

"Alright, Augustus?" asked Avery. "Are you bleeding?" He pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of his robes, but Mulciber waved him away.

"Give me a chair, will you?" growled Mulciber, and Wilkes leapt out of his seat. Mulciber sat down with a grunt, touching his hand to one of his ears. It came away bloody.

Regulus closed his journal. He stared at Mulciber's hand, horrified. "What happened? Was it Sally? Did you —"

Mulciber let out a mirthless laugh. "You think Sally Dearborn is capable of a curse like this? No. This is Bellatrix's handiwork."

Regulus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Bellatrix _Black_?"

Severus resisted the urge to fling his Potions book at Regulus' head. "The name is familiar to you, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," said Regulus. "She's my cousin. But why would she —"

"Well, I failed her, didn't I?" asked Mulciber. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing at Avery with one of his meaty hands. Avery hurriedly pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it into Mulciber's palm. "We were told to make Dearborn disappear. We failed. As your mentor, I have taken the brunt of the punishment, but make no mistake — there's plenty of blame to go around." He glared at them all as he spoke, holding the handkerchief to his ear.

Severus wanted to roll his eyes but thought better of it. As far as he was concerned, Mulciber's plan in Hogsmeade had been so idiotic he deserved whatever punishment he got. "Did Bella say anything else?"

"Yeah, she sends hugs and kisses to her precious little half-blood prince," said Mulciber sarcastically. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, arse-licker?"

Severus said nothing, though his insides were blazing with fury. He wouldn't give Mulciber the satisfaction.

Mulciber regarded Severus a few seconds longer. Seeming disappointed Severus wasn't taking the bait, he continued. "Bella's giving us another chance. And if you lot muck this one up as well, she won't have to kill you, because I'll do it myself."

Regulus looked so worried that Severus took pity on him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Regulus jumped about five feet in the air and nearly fell out of his armchair.

"Oh," said Regulus. "Sorry, Sev. Didn't realize that was you."

Severus removed his hand as if it had been burned. "That's quite alright," he said through gritted teeth. He swore to himself he'd never attempt another comforting gesture again.

"So when are we going hunting?" asked Wilkes. Nobody responded. He looked around the table incredulously, clearly expecting a laugh. "Come on, Dearborn? Deer? Hunting? That was _funny_ …"

"It really wasn't," said Severus. "And I doubt we'll be able to approach Dearborn until our fearless leader _Augustus_ has his weekends freed up. After all, how will we know what to do without his direction?"

Mulciber looked murderous, but he didn't argue.

"It's impossible to get to her during the week, anyway," said Rosier fairly, leaning back in his chair. "She never goes anywhere alone."

Severus nodded. "We shouldn't do it in the castle, either."

Mulciber opened his mouth, then shut it again, glaring Severus. After a moment his curiosity got the better of him. "Why can't we do it in the castle?"

"The walls have ears, Augustus," said Severus. "And eyes. And mouths."

Regulus' eyes widened as if realizing something for the first time. "The portraits."

"Obviously," said Severus. "And the suits of armour, and Merlin-knows-what-else that's been charmed to keep an eye on students. Better to do it off grounds entirely."

Mulciber snorted. "I knew that already."

"Of course you did," said Severus. "That's the reason you asked why we can't attack Dearborn in the castle."

Mulciber rose out of his chair, his beady eyes dangerously narrow. "You —"

"Come on, Augustus," said Rosier, stretching his lanky arms into the air. "Sev's just being his charming self, as usual. No need to take it personally. What else did Bella say?"

"That was the gist of it," said Mulciber. He pulled the bloodied handkerchief away from his ear and examined it before pressing it against his other ear. "I'll let you lot know if I hear anything else." He glanced around the common room, which was mostly empty. Even the emerald fire in the hearth had died down to glowing coals. "Right, you lot clean this place up. I'm going to bed."

"Some bonding activity," mumbled Avery, watching Mulciber shuffle down the stairs that led to the dormitories.

"I heard that," Mulciber called over his shoulder. "And I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Edmund. We all know what kind of bonding activities _you_ like."

Avery flinched, looking genuinely hurt. Severus considered trying to comfort him, but remembered his failed attempt with Regulus and thought better of it.

"What a wanker," said Wilkes once Mulciber was out of earshot. He gave Avery's shoulder a soft punch. "Don't worry about him. We all know he's compensating for something."

That night, Severus sat in his bed, staring across the dormitory at Mulciber's sleeping form. It'd be so easy to curse him. He could use _Sectumsempra,_ just a little, to ensure Mulciber's ears continued to bleed throughout the night. Mulciber probably wouldn't even feel it. He'd simply wake up in the morning completely deaf. Not even Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal him, not with a spell like _Sectumsempra_.

Across the room, Avery cleared his throat, looking pointedly at him. Severus glanced down; he hadn't even realized he'd been turning over his wand in his hands. He shrugged a shoulder at Avery and placed his wand on his bedside table.

Severus stewed in bed for a long time, his thoughts dark. Finally, he pulled out his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ from under his pillow. If Mulciber wanted a rival, Severus would give him one.

A soft scratching sound echoed through the dormitory as he made an inscription on the inside cover of his Potions text.

 _This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince._

* * *

 **A/N:** I have officially written 100,000 words about Harry Potter's parents! And there's so much more to come... I don't even remember how long year 6 is but its looong.

(Also, remember how I said I would update on Wednesdays? I think the universe heard me and has been conspiring to make every Wednesday the most inconvenient day of the week. Let's see if the streak continues!)


	19. After the Feast

"Right," said Mulciber as the other Followers finished cleaning Dungeon Thirteen. He'd just led them through their latest bonding activity, which involved making Dark Curios and placing them around the school in the hopes that an unwitting student would touch one. Completely uninspired, in Severus' opinion. "I know how we're gonna get to Dearborn."

"How?" asked Wilkes as he used his wand to dust the gilded mantelpiece.

"The Halloween feast," said Mulciber. "Head students are tasked with cleaning up afterwards. The Great Hall will be empty except for Dearborn and Fernsby. And there aren't any portraits in the Great Hall," he added with a glare at Severus.

Severus didn't flinch. "You're suggesting we face off against the two most talented students in the school, then. Your plans just keep getting better."

"It'd be easy enough to get Fernsby out of the way," Evan Rosier pointed out. "We could bribe a student to pull him out of the Hall for a minute. Or we could slip something into his pumpkin juice."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "And when a teacher inevitably walks in and finds the Great Hall covered in Sally Dearborn's blood?"

"The Hall is just a start," said Mulciber impatiently. "If we can get her alone I can put her under the Imperius curse. Then we can go somewhere more… private."

"Right," said Severus sarcastically. "That won't look suspicious at all, a group of Slytherins parading through the castle with the Gryffindor Head Girl."

Mulciber's nostrils flared. "Funny how you don't propose any ideas of your own, _Snivellus_."

"Well, I'm not this year's mentor, am I?" said Severus, his voice dripping with venom.

Mulciber's lips twitched. "No. You're not." He looked around at the others, who had finished cleaning the dungeon and were watching their exchange warily. "Halloween. After the feast, we'll hide in the staircase that leads to the kitchens until the Hall is empty."

Mulciber dismissed the group, and Severus made for the library instead of following the others back to the common room. He'd been working on the annotations of his Potions text and needed to do some additional research on Bubotuber pus.

To his annoyance, Regulus followed him out of the dungeons. "Are we going to kill her?"

Severus grit his teeth. He didn't understand how the Blacks could have raised Regulus to be so _sensitive_. "Keep your voice down," he said as they ascended the marble staircase. "Would you be upset if we did?"

"I'm not a killer," said Regulus. "Are you?"

"Not as of yet," said Severus sourly. "But if the Dark Lord requires it, who am I to disobey his command?"

Regulus looked like he'd just been punched. "Do you really believe that? The Dark Lord says jump and you ask how high?"

"Keep your voice _down_ ," hissed Severus. The students around them were eyeing him strangely now. Severus sighed and dragged Regulus into an unused classroom on the first floor. "If you're having doubts, I advise you to write them down in that diary of yours," he told Regulus as soon as the door was shut. "I don't want to hear about your worries. I am not your therapist. I do not sympathize with you."

Regulus stood up a little straighter. "Yes, you do. You don't like Mulciber any more than I do. I can tell."

"My feelings for Mulciber are irrelevant to this discussion," said Severus. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? If you have objections to Following, keep it to yourself."

"I do keep it to myself," said Regulus, flushing a little. "I only talk to you because Bella said you'd help me with —"

"— With adjusting to being an Intent, yes, but I am not your confidant," snapped Severus.

"Right," said Regulus sarcastically. "We're supposed to be a brotherhood, but Lord forbid we actually talk about anything _important_ —"

"If you keep Following half-heartedly, Mulciber is going to notice," said Severus, cutting him off. "You're not half as clever as you think you are. I saw what you did with your Dark Curio today."

Regulus' eyes darted towards the door. "I — I don't know what —"

"You slipped it into your journal instead of leaving it for someone to find," said Severus. "You're lucky it was only me who noticed. What if Mulciber had been nearby?"

"Mine had a blood-borne curse on it!" said Regulus. "It would have affected generations if someone had touched it. What was I supposed to do?"

"Then you ought to have mangled the curse when Mulciber wasn't looking!" said Severus. "That would have been believable enough, the incantation is incredibly complex, and Mulciber wouldn't have known the difference…" He trailed off. Regulus looked oddly smug. "Why are you making that face?"

"You _do_ have a conscience," said Regulus. "I knew it."

"Rarely," said Severus. "I prioritize self-preservation. Damage control is a secondary concern."

"Still," said Regulus. "It's something."

Severus' head began to ache, and he rubbed his brow. "I would urge you to remember why we are Following, Regulus."

Regulus' thin lips pressed into a line. "To survive."

"Exactly," said Severus. "The more you undermine our cause, the worse your chances of survival. And don't think for an instant I will come to your rescue when Mulciber finally catches on to you. I will place my well-being over yours every time."

Regulus didn't respond; his face was almost impressively impassive. Still, Severus thought he could feel disapproval radiating from every inch of Regulus' perfectly tailored robes.

"By the Baron, Regulus," said Severus, exasperated. He pulled open the door to the classroom and they stepped into the deserted corridor. "Spit it out."

"Nothing," said Regulus stiffly.

"Whatever you have to say, I've heard worse," said Severus. "You are not the first person I have disappointed." He tried very hard not to think of Lily.

"I don't have anything to say to you," said Regulus.

Severus grunted and let the conversation drop. He wasn't about to beg Regulus to insult him.

They walked in silence through the castle and into the dungeons. "My last piece of advice," said Severus at last. "The next time Mulciber commands you to do something, _do it_. The more he trusts you, the better off you will be."

Regulus said nothing. Severus glanced at him, trying to determine what he was thinking, but Regulus' expression was inscrutable. Well. There were other ways to discover a person's thoughts.

"What?" asked Regulus, finally meeting Severus' gaze.

Severus touched his wand and reached out briefly with his mind, using Legilimency. It was like entering a thick fog; Severus found nothing but hazy, insubstantial images in Regulus' mind, twisted this way and that by an undercurrent of worry.

"I know what you're doing," said Regulus.

Severus blinked, coming back to himself. "Ah. I —"

"I'm surprised you thought that would work on me. Bella taught you Occlumency, didn't she? Where do you think she learned it from?"

Severus grimaced. The Blacks probably trained all their children in Occlumency. It had been foolish of him not to consider that, and now he'd shown Regulus his hand.

"There're plenty of mind games in my family," said Regulus. "I know how to defend myself." He paused, seemingly waiting for an apology. Severus didn't offer one.

"Right," said Regulus, turning towards the stone wall that led to the common room. "If that's it, then —"

"We probably won't kill her," said Severus abruptly. "Dearborn, I mean. Not even Mulciber is that stupid. We'll rough her up a bit, send her to St. Mungo's. That will get the point across and get Bella off our back."

Regulus was still staring at the wall. He gave no indication that he had heard. Severus' headache was worse now; hopefully this was the last time he had to prod Regulus into Following. Finally, Regulus nodded a little and muttered the password to the common room. The stone wall slid open with a rumble, and Regulus entered the passageway. Severus trailed him inside.

* * *

The following Saturday was the new moon, and the grounds of Hogwarts were silent, save for the occasional far-off hoot of an owl. In Hagrid's vegetable patch, a rat with sandy-coloured fur scurried out from behind a pumpkin. It made several laps around Hagrid's hut before darting towards the Forbidden Forest, where James and Remus stood. They were frowning at the large piece of parchment hovering in the air in front of them. Beside Remus sat a large, shaggy black dog which somehow looked similarly concerned.

The rat squeaked as it reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and James turned towards the sound. The rat suddenly tripled in size, stretching upwards and becoming Peter. He jogged towards James, slightly out of breath. "Well?"

"No good, Wormtail," said James. "It's not picking up on your movement at all, not even in your Animagus form." He tapped a finger against one corner of the parchment, which contained a single, unmoving dot labelled _Peter Pettigrew_. There were no other dots on the map.

"Reckon it's something to do with the Homonculous Charm you cast?" asked Peter worriedly.

"I'm sure of it," said James. "Blasted charm's impossible to modify without making the whole thing useless."

Remus made a humming noise. "What do you think about using _Homenum revelio_ instead?"

"That won't work," said James, shaking his head. "I read Scamander's _In the Field, Among the Fanged_ last week, and it said Revelio only detects human presence, not half-human or animals — including Animagi, mind you. What's the point of the map if we can't even keep track of each other? At least the Homonculous Charm can be altered to include all living beings."

"Right," said Remus. "In theory."

"Theory's all we've got at this point," said James. "Pete, mind going another round?"

Peter nodded and immediately began to shrink. The rat darted back towards the vegetable patch, and James lost sight of it among the grass. He tapped his wand against the corner of the parchment labelled _Hagrid's Hut_. "Forget the Homonculous Charm a moment. Let's try something new. _Appare vestigium. Specialis revelio_."

He and Remus watched the parchment intently — the dog had lost interest and was busy sniffing a tree — but the dot labelled _Peter Pettigrew_ didn't budge. After a few minutes, James cupped his hands to his mouth and made a hooting sound, like an owl, and the rat returned to them.

"Nothing," said James in response to Peter's questioning look. Peter swore.

The dog wandered back over to them and reared onto its hind legs, becoming Sirius. "I've got an idea," he said with a grin. He drew his wand and pointed it at the map. " _Revelio largus bloody ratus… Pettigrew apperio_ —"

"Padfoot —" said James warningly, but it was too late. The map began to glow brightly, casting blinding light in all directions like a miniature sun. Remus pulled his hand away from the parchment as if he'd been burned.

James groaned. "Merlin's arse, Sirius," he said. "Were you not listening in first year Charms when Flitwick told us not to mangle spells for a laugh? Because of the unforeseen consequences?" He turned away from the parchment, which was too bright to look at, and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

Sirius shrugged, unconcerned. "Thought you lot would think it was funny." He screwed up his eyes against the light being cast by the parchment. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd realized you've got a wand stuck up your —"

"Out of curiosity," said Remus. He was examining his hand, which was glowing as brightly as the parchment it had touched. "Do you happen to know the countercharm for ' _Pettigrew apperio_ '?"

"Of course I do," said Sirius, pointing his wand at Remus' hand. " _Finite incantatum_."

Nothing happened.

"Bugger," said Sirius. "Looks like Flitwick had a point."

Peter rejoined them, shielding his eyes against the blinding light. "What happened? Why's the map glowing like that?"

"Bad joke," said Sirius quickly. He gave James an apologetic look.

James smiled in spite of himself. "You look like a dog that got caught pissing in the house."

"An adorable, lovable dog who is very sorry and won't do it again," said Sirius, batting his eyelashes at James. "You should see me make this face as Padfoot. Even my mum can't resist it."

James snorted. He fished the Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and flung it over the dazzlingly bright parchment. The light immediately vanished.

"How do we fix it?" asked Peter.

James lifted a shoulder. "I haven't the foggiest. Experimental Charms are something of an obscure subject, aren't they? We might have to make" — he sighed — "another trip to the library to figure this one out."

Sirius groaned. "We're starting to live there. People are going to get the wrong idea."

"Tell me about it," said James. "Madam Pince has started making eyes at me."

"You wish," said Sirius. "She's making eyes at _me_. You just happen to be nearby."

"Actually," said Remus, "I think it might be me she fancies. She complimented my jumper the other day."

James gaped at him. "She did not."

"She did," said Remus gravely. "Said it looked warm. Plus she lets me take out five books instead of four."

"Say no more, Moony," said Sirius, placing a hand to his forehead dramatically. "I'm starting to get jealous."

"Back to the castle, then?" asked James. He ducked under the Invisibility Cloak, screwing his eyes shut against the light of the map, and began to roll the parchment into a scroll. He stuffed the map into his bag, which began to glow as beams of light pierced through the fabric.

Once he had finished, the others joined him under the Cloak. "Who's up for a midnight snack in the kitchens?" asked Peter.

James examined his hands, which were now glowing faintly, and made a noncommittal noise. "I've got Quidditch tomorrow morning. If I get less than six hours of sleep my muscles won't grow."

"You say that like you're a bodybuilder instead of a scrawny git," said Sirius. He flexed for emphasis, and James shoved him good-naturedly.

"Let's go to the kitchens," said Remus. "I feel decent tonight."

James realized he was outnumbered. "Fine. But if we lose against Slytherin I'm holding you lot personally responsible."

This late at night, the Hogwarts kitchens were dark and nearly empty; James guessed that even house-elves needed sleep. A low fire crackled in the hearth at the end of the room, where a pair of house-elves appeared to be making soup in a large cauldron. One of the house-elves turned at the sound of the door creaking open.

James and the others froze under the Cloak as the house-elf looked around the kitchen, squinting. After a moment, it gave a tiny shrug and resumed stirring the cauldron.

Sirius nudged James as they approached their usual table at the back of the kitchens. Someone was already sitting there, resting their head on the table as they scribbled on a piece of parchment.

James came to a halt as he saw who it was. _Lily_ , he mouthed to the others. He was out from under the Invisibility Cloak before anyone could stop him. "Alright, Evans?"

Lily's head shot up, and she began scrambling to roll up her parchment. "Potter? What — how did you — I didn't hear you come in…" Her eyes narrowed. "It's after curfew. You're not supposed to be out of bed."

"Neither are you," said James, waggling a glowing finger at her.

"I'm a prefect," said Lily, giving his hand a strange look. "I'm allowed to be out. Just finished my rounds, in fact."

She was wearing pyjamas. "Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar?" asked James. Lily opened her mouth to protest but he looked pointedly at her nightgown and then at the half-eaten piece of cake sitting on the table.

Lily flushed. "I have a lot on my plate this year, alright?"

"Literally," said Sirius. He strode towards them, followed by Remus and Peter, who was holding the Invisibility Cloak. "Tell me you're not planning on letting that cake go to waste, Evans."

Lily startled a bit at their sudden appearance. "Where did you lot come from?"

"We can be very quiet when we want to be," said Sirius. He slid into the chair beside her and helped himself to a bite of cake. "What're you working on so late at night?"

"Nothing," said Lily. She made to stuff the scroll of parchment into her bag. James reached for the parchment, trying to grab it, but Lily glared at him. "Don't you _dare_ , Potter."

James drew back at once. "Er, sorry, Evans. Just curious…"

"Lily," said Remus quietly, "if you told us what you're working on, we might be able to help."

Lily looked at him, biting her lip. "It's not for a class," she said finally. "I'm writing a letter."

"I'm great at writing letters," said Peter. "I had calligraphy lessons until I was twelve."

"Really?" asked Lily.

"Yeah, Pete here's got better handwriting than the Queen, I expect," said Sirius. "Atrocious grammar, though…" Peter stuck out his tongue, and Sirius grinned.

"What's your letter about, then, Lily?" asked Remus.

"Ah," said Lily. "Right. Well, er, I don't suppose any of you read the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Moony does," said James, clapping Remus on the back.

"Of course you do," said Lily. She gave Remus a small smile. "Have you been following the stuff about Dearborn's Muggle-born Protection Act?"

Remus nodded. "It passed the House of Mages, didn't it?"

"Right," said Lily. "It's up for a vote in the House of Lords next week. The _Prophet_ 's predicting it will pass there as well."

"What's the Act about?" asked Peter.

"Protecting Muggle-borns, obviously," said Sirius. "Use your brain, Pete."

"Yeah," said Peter, "but what do they mean by 'protection'?" He turned to Lily. "Will you get your own bodyguard or what?"

"Nobody knows," said Lily. "They've been really hush-hush about the details. But since it'll probably pass, my family will be affected. So I'm sort of… trying to figure out the best way to write to my mum about the whole situation. To fill her in about what's been going on."

James whistled. "Bit of a heavy topic, that."

"Exactly," said Lily. "There's no good way to bring it up. Like, 'Hi Mum, don't you think changing your name and going into hiding would be a laugh?'" She looked down at her parchment, shaking her head. "I must have written fifty different drafts at this point."

"We can help," said James firmly. He reached into his bag for a quill, but as soon as he opened his bag a beam of bright light hit his face, blinding him.

"What have you got in there?" asked Lily. "A miniature sun?"

"More or less," said James, blinking dazedly in her direction. "Sirius thought he'd try his hand at spell invention. Things went a little sideways." He waved his glowing hands at her and continued to rummage through his bag. Finally, his fingers closed around the quill he was looking for, and he thrust it at Peter. "If you'll do the honours, Pete? Seeing as I've gone temporarily blind…"

"Of course," said Peter, taking the quill, which was black and elegantly plumed. He tapped it with his wand and murmured a couple of spells before unrolling Lily's piece of parchment and beginning to write. "'Dear… Mum'…" He stopped and looked around the table. "What next?"

Lily jumped in. "'How are you? How's the garden? Has Tuney brought her new boyfriend over yet? Have you —'"

"Okay, that's enough pleasantries," Sirius interrupted. "Let's get on with it."

Lily gave Sirius a withering look. "Being interested in my mum's life is different from _pleasantries_ , Black."

Sirius blinked, looking as if he'd never considered that. "Er, right. Of course. Carry on then." He tilted his chair back on its legs and closed his eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

"'How're the dahlias you've been growing?'" said Lily as Peter dutifully continued to write. "'Has Mrs Roberts given you permission to sell your flowers at the market yet? If she drags her feet I can make her precious lilac bush wilt, if you'd like'…"

James leaned forward on his elbows, fascinated. Lily's letter to her Muggle mum sounded so… _normal_. "Our mums would get along," he said as Lily paused for breath. "My mum's been growing dahlias too. Though she can never get them to flower through the season."

Lily glanced at him, surprised. "Really?" He nodded. "Weird," she said. "I would've thought she'd prefer magical plants, like Flutterby bushes…"

"Well, she's got those too," admitted James. "But she also does regular flowers." He paused as he was struck by a thought. "She knows some great gardening spells, actually. Maybe I could get her to teach me over Christmas, and then I could show you next term."

Lily stared at James as if she was seeing him for the first time. "That would be nice," she said at last before turning back to Peter. "Ready to get to the good bits?"

Peter cracked his knuckles. "Let's go."

James kicked the leg of Sirius' chair to wake him up. Sirius startled and nearly fell over but managed to catch himself in time. "Are we finally at the interesting part?" asked Sirius. "Excellent. How much does your mum know about what's going on?"

"Erm, not a lot," said Lily, looking sheepish. "I mean, she knows there's some prejudice against Muggle-borns, but that's about it."

Sirius snorted. "That's putting it lightly."

Lily flushed. "Well, what was I supposed to tell her? 'By the way, Mum, a Dark Lord and his followers want people like us dead. Tra la la, back to my magic school I go.'" James and Peter laughed, and Lily looked slightly gratified.

"Well, better late than never," said Remus. "We can break the news to her gently. How does this sound: 'I've noticed anti-Muggle prejudice increasing lately. A new law has been proposed in the Ministry of Magic to keep families like ours safe.'"

Sirius leaned over to ruffle Remus' hair. "You're brilliant, Moony. Such a _diplomat_."

Finishing the letter took the better part of an hour, during which they munched on cakes and tea provided by the two house-elves who were still awake. "That's it, then," said Peter, ending the letter with a flourish. "What do you think?" He held the parchment out to her.

Lily's eyes widened as she scanned the letter. "What the — this is in my handwriting!"

"Oh, yeah," said Peter. "I charmed our Smart-Arse Quill to write like you. Hope you don't mind."

"You…" Lily trailed off. "I've never heard of a Smart-Arse Quill before. Is it a new Zonko's product?"

"Nah," said Sirius, snatching the quill out of Peter's hands and twirling it between his fingers. "This beauty is one of our own inventions."

Lily tilted her head to the side as if she was remembering something. "Is that the same quill you used to grade the E.V.I.L.s last year?"

Sirius nodded. "Tricky bit of magic to get right, but worth every minute we spent on it. It can write independently, too, if you give it a topic — it does all my essays now."

Lily shook her head. "Imagine what you lot could do if you actually applied yourselves."

James grinned. "The wizarding world isn't ready for that." Sirius handed him the quill and he shoved it back into his bag, screwing his eyes tightly shut against the light coming from the inside.

Lily was watching him thoughtfully. "Give me that," she said at last, gesturing towards the bag. "Let me see if I can put it right."

"Absolutely," said James. He pushed the bag towards her, heedless of the looks Sirius and Peter were giving him.

Lily opened the bag, shielding her eyes from the light. She prodded the inside with her wand and murmured a string of countercharms so complex that James only recognized a handful. After a moment, her face brightened. " _Tenebrio_ ," she said, and the light immediately vanished.

"Merlin's tits, Evans," said James appreciatively. "I always knew you were a dab hand at Charms, but that was bloody impressive."

The tips of Lily's ears turned pink. "Don't mention it. Now…" She held her hand out towards James, watching him expectantly.

James had no idea what she wanted from him. Payment for fixing the map, maybe? But she was still holding his bag.

"Potter," said Lily. "Give me your hand."

"Ah," said James. Muggles shook hands all the time. She probably wanted a handshake as thanks for a job well done. He stretched out his arm and gave her hand a firm shake. "Many thanks, Evans. Much obliged."

He tried to pull away, but her hand tightened around his wrist. "Er," said James, completely bewildered. He shot a panicked glance at Sirius, who was giving him a strange look.

"Why are you being so weird?" asked Lily. "Don't you want me to stop your hands from glowing as well?"

"Oh," said James, feeling stupid. He'd misread the situation entirely. His face was oddly hot all of a sudden, and he was certain he'd just gone as red as Lily's ears. "Er, right."

He held both arms out and she took his hands gently. Her hands were so small and soft compared to his own, her nails unpainted and neatly trimmed. He suddenly felt like a bit of a gorilla compared to her.

Lily touched the tip of her wand to each of his palms and performed the same sequence of countercharms. The light faded from his hands.

"Thanks, Evans," said James. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and pulled away.

A corner of Lily's lips turned upward as if she were trying very hard not to smirk. She turned to Remus, who dutifully held out his hand towards her.

"You know," said Lily later, as the five of them climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, "I'm still giving you lot detention the next time I catch you out of bed."

"Ah, but you'd have to catch us first," said Sirius, stretching and yawning. "And we're planning on making that very difficult."

"I'm not going to ask," said Lily.

"Good strategy," said Peter. They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and Lily bid them good-night, heading up the stairs to her dormitory.

"You two were very civil," Remus said to James as they entered their own dormitory. "I think that might be a first."

James shrugged, trying to look casual. "I guess we're both maturing."

Sirius let out a bark of a laugh. "You mean _you're_ maturing, mate. She's always been leagues ahead of you."

"And I expect she always will be," said James, climbing under the sheets on his bed. There was a rustle at his side, and a large black dog jumped onto the bed, curling up at his legs. James rolled over and pulled the sheets up to his chin. "Night, Pads."

The dog woofed.

* * *

On Halloween evening, Severus slunk down to the feast with the other Followers. He took his place next to Regulus at the Slytherin table, which was covered in an orange tablecloth trimmed with black embroidery. Clouds of bats fluttered about the enchanted ceiling, and the corners of the Great Hall were thick with cobwebs.

Mulciber craned his beefy neck towards the Gryffindor table. "Can any of you lot see Dearborn?"

Severus followed Mulciber's gaze. Sally Dearborn was chatting with several other seventh-year girls, her blonde hair pulled back into a plait and a pointed witches' hat atop her head. Sally's eyes flicked towards them, and Severus dipped his head hastily, busying himself with the platter of pumpkin pasties in front of him.

He was so preoccupied with looking convincingly enthused about the pasties that he nearly missed the sound of clicking heels on the floor. Mulciber elbowed him so hard in the side that Severus nearly dropped the platter.

" _What_?" he snarled. Mulciber jerked his head, indicating something behind them, and Severus turned to look.

Sally Dearborn had just strode out of the Great Hall, pointy hat and all.

The other Followers looked as confused as Severus felt. "Well?" asked Wilkes finally, looking at Mulciber.

"She probably needed the loo or something," said Mulciber. "I'll see where she's gone. You lot _stay here_." He gave them all a glare that he probably thought looked menacing before getting up from the table and lumbering away.

Ten minutes passed, and Mulciber didn't return. Neither did Sally.

"Should we —" started Avery. "Maybe we should, I dunno, check on Augustus? If he's run into trouble…"

"By trouble, do you mean the wrong end of Dearborn's wand?" asked Wilkes. He'd finished his meal and was playing with a deck of cards.

"More or less." Avery was bouncing his leg up and down so quickly that Severus could feel the vibrations on his end of the bench. "I'll go look for him, shall I? Would anybody else like to come?"

Nobody responded.

"Seriously, you lot?" said Avery. "He's our _mentor_ —"

"I'll go," said Regulus. He sounded deeply unenthusiastic, as if he'd just volunteered himself for a date with the Giant Squid.

"Great, thanks," said Avery. "It'll look better if it's me and you, since we're prefects — We can say we've been patrolling…"

Avery scurried out of the Hall with Regulus trailing several yards behind him.

"And then there were three," said Rosier ominously, gesturing between Severus, Wilkes and himself.

Wilkes began to deal out the cards. "Who wants to play Cribbage? Let's take advantage of the peace and quiet for once."

After three rounds of Cribbage (Severus won two, but he'd been cheating), Mulciber returned, followed by Regulus and Avery.

"Took you long enough," said Wilkes, turning over a card. "What happened?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" said Mulciber. He sat down and began to saw through a slice of roast pork. "Figures, while we've been out risking our necks, you all have been _playing cards_. Useless, the lot of you."

Severus made a jot on the parchment they were using to keep score. "You told us to stay here. I wasn't aware that you actually intended us to do the opposite."

" _You_ —"

"Augustus," said Avery tonelessly. A vein in Mulciber's forehead bulged, but Avery was focused on the card game. Apparently even he had a limit for Mulciber's tantrums. "There's no need to be cross."

"We couldn't find Dearborn," Regulus told the group. He glanced nervously at Mulciber. "We met up with Augustus on the seventh floor, but he hadn't seen her either."

Severus glanced up from his cards. Something was off about Regulus' tone of voice. Was he helping Mulciber cover something up?

"She probably went back to her common room," said Rosier. "She had a few minutes' head start on you lot."

"Pity," said Wilkes indifferently.

Severus looked at Regulus a moment longer, then went back to scoring his hand. "Shame you couldn't catch up to her. By the way, Wilfred — looks like I've won again." Wilkes squinted suspiciously at him, and Severus responded with what he hoped was an innocent shrug. "I wonder what tipped Dearborn off?" said Wilkes as he reshuffled the cards. "Think someone said something? Emma Vanity's always trying to listen in on our conversations, think she's still a bit peeved Lucius passed her over…"

"I wasn't aware that _thinking_ was part of your job as a Follower," said Mulciber savagely. "Let's go. I want to see what Fernsby does after the feast. We can watch him from the hidden stairs that lead to the kitchens."

Severus trailed the others to the hidden staircase. He kept eyes on Mulciber's back, wishing he didn't need eye contact to perform Legilimency. Why did Mulciber care about Fernsby? Was he worried Fernsby would go looking for Sally Dearborn?

In the staircase, Severus kept watch through the keyhole of the door as hundreds of students filed out of the Great Hall, ushered back to their dormitories by the teachers. Finally, Professor Dumbledore exited the Hall, waving jovially over his shoulder at Chester Fernsby, who was rolling up the sleeves of his robes and eyeing the massive flock of bats with apprehension.

"Fernsby's trying to vanish the bats," Severus said to the others as the sound of Dumbledore's footsteps faded. "Stupid if you ask me, a Freezing Charm has a wider range and would —"

"Enough magical theory," snapped Mulciber. "What about Dearborn? Does he look worried about her?"

Severus didn't bother keeping the disdain from his voice. "The bats seem to be his primary concern."

Mulciber jabbed a finger at Regulus and Avery. "You two. Prefects. Go talk to Fernsby. Tell him you want to speak to Dearborn and see what he says."

Avery blinked, seemingly startled at being singled out. Regulus tensed; he looked towards Severus as if hoping Severus would bail him out. Severus met his gaze, impassive. He'd warned Regulus to solve his conflicts on his own.

"Why are you looking at him like that?" barked Mulciber, and Regulus jumped.

"I don't know how you mean —"

"Severus Snape is not your mentor," growled Mulciber as he drew his wand. "Am I clear?"

Regulus' voice was as brittle as shattered glass. "Yes."

"Go talk to Fernsby. _Now_."

Regulus' expression was unreadable. "As you wish, mentor." He gave Mulciber an ironic little bow and pulled open the door to the Entrance Hall. Severus quickly shut the door behind them and pressed his eye to the keyhole. Regulus was striding into the Great Hall, followed by Avery. Regulus raised a hand in greeting, and Fernsby turned around. After a minute of talking, Regulus nodded and drew his wand to help Fernby Vanish the swarm of bats. As they worked, Avery leaned against the wall and watched, looking bored.

Half an hour later, the Great Hall had regained its normal appearance. Fernsby bounded up the marble steps of the Entrance Hall, and Regulus and Avery rejoined the Followers in the flight of stairs that led to the kitchens. "Fernsby's got no idea where Dearborn is," Regulus announced. "He said he'd look for her this evening, though."

Mulciber's thick neck began to redden. _Interesting_ , thought Severus.

"If you squealed to him," said Mulciber, "or showed him our hand —"

Avery frowned. "I don't —"

"Not _you_ , you dolt," said Mulciber. He advanced on Regulus, who swallowed audibly. "Let me spell this out for you. If I find out you spoke a word — one word — of our plan to him, if you gave _anything_ away, I'll make sure _you_ vanish too."

Regulus took a step backwards, his hands shaking. Mulciber advanced on him, his voice growing louder. He sounded just like Severus' father, Tobias, and the thought filled Severus' mouth with a bitter taste.

Regulus' tall, lanky form seemed to shrink as Mulciber continued to pelt him with insults. "You think you're indispensable because of your last name? You're worth _nothing_ , and you will _never_ —"

"Augustus," said Severus. He deeply regretted intervening, but if he had to listen to Mulciber's tirade for another second he might actually curse someone. "You're being ridiculous. Threatening our newest Intent will get us nowhere."

His voice seemed to pull Mulciber out of his fixation on Regulus. Mulciber clenched his fists, looking as if he dearly wanted to snap Severus' neck. He took several deep breaths. "Back to the dungeons, all of you," he gritted out between his teeth. "The common room still needs cleaning."

The next morning, the sun had barely risen when Severus heard a knock on the dormitory door. Professor Slughorn entered without waiting for a response, squeezing his considerable gut past the doorframe. "Morning, lads," said Professor Slughorn. There was no hint of the usual cheer in his voice. "Mulciber, I must ask you to come with me for a moment."

Mulciber rolled over in bed, rubbing his eyes blearily. After a moment, he realized who was speaking to him and sat up straight. "Is everything alright? Sir?"

"That remains to be seen," said Professor Slughorn gravely. "You're familiar with the Head Girl, Sally Dearborn, I believe?"

Mulciber had the good sense to try and look sheepish, at least. "You know I am, sir."

"Then I'll see you in my office in ten minutes," said Professor Slughorn, turning to leave.

Severus spoke without thinking. "Did something happen to her?"

Professor Slughorn paused, one meaty hand on the doorframe. "That is what we are trying to determine, Sliverus. I'm rather hoping this is all a misunderstanding, but given the political affiliations of her father… Yes, it's for the best that we pursue all avenues, no matter how unlikely they might be…"

"Sir?"

Professor Slughorn sighed heavily, fixing his watery eyes on Severus. "Sally Dearborn has not been seen since the Halloween feast last night. I'm afraid we must assume the worst."


	20. The Second Son

During breakfast the following morning, Sirius managed to Transfigure the latest letter from his mum into a slide whistle. He was in the middle of practising an off-key rendition of one of his favourite Muggle tunes when he realized that the Great Hall had fallen unusually quiet.

James gave him a nudge and jerked his head towards the staff table. Dumbledore had risen from his seat and was waiting, hands folded, for the Hall to grow silent. Sirius blew a sad-sounding note through the slide whistle and set it gently on the table.

"Thank you, Mr Black," said Dumbledore. His eyes swept over the four long tables in the Great Hall. "Now that I have everyone's attention, I am afraid that I have an announcement to make."

Several students exchanged nervous glances. Sirius caught Remus' eye — surely if something bad had happened, it would have been in the _Daily Prophet_ — but Remus shook his head, looking as confused as Sirius felt.

"It has been brought to my attention that Sally Dearborn, the Head Girl, did not return to her dormitory last night after the Halloween feast," continued Dumbledore. "The Heads of House, along with myself, have conducted a thorough search of the castle and have failed to discover where she might have gone. I must request that any student with information on the matter come forward at once; it is possible that Miss Dearborn is in jeopardy, and time may be of the essence. In the meantime, the staff of Hogwarts will be coordinating daily search parties around the castle and its grounds. Students who wish to participate need only speak to their Head of House."

With a shake of his elaborate velvet robes, Dumbledore sat down. After a moment, the Great Hall began to buzz with conversation.

James leaned across the table, beckoning Sirius, Remus and Peter in conspiratorially. "Dumbledore seems worried, doesn't he? Reckon Sally ran away?"

"Nah," said Sirius. "That doesn't make sense. She's got too much going for her. Head Girl, top of her class…"

Remus' brow creased. "I wonder if it has anything to do with her father's politics. Last week's _Prophet_ mentioned that his department's been getting threats over that Act of his."

"Could be," said James. "Maybe he pulled her out of Hogwarts to keep her safe, and this whole 'missing person' thing is a front. Merlin knows Caradoc's paranoid enough to pull something like that."

Half of Hogwarts shared James' theory, it turned out; in the week that followed, the news that the Head Girl had gone missing was the source of much gossip around Hogwarts. Many students, especially those from pure-blooded families, thought that Caradoc Dearborn had simply spirited his daughter away to safety. Sirius, on the other hand, was considerably more pessimistic about Sally's fate, though he didn't voice his theories out loud. He suspected that Remus was of a similar mind, considering the way he began to disappear behind the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ during breakfast and would only reemerge after reading the entire thing from cover to cover.

To Sirius' annoyance, James immediately signed them up to participate in not one but _two_ different search parties ("It'll be good for the map! " James had protested when Sirius accused him of becoming a do-gooder. "We'll have a built-in excuse if they catch us poking around somewhere we're not supposed to be!").

These search parties ended up being mostly useless; the most interesting thing Sirius and James managed to find was a room on the third floor which contained a trapdoor to a hidden corridor. As soon as Chester Fernsby, who was leading the search party, looked the other way, Sirius furtively added the room to the map.

After a few days passed, however, it became increasingly clear that none of the search parties had found any leads on Sally Dearborn. All of her belongings were still in her dormitory, save for her wand, and rumour had it that she'd left the Halloween feast with her meal unfinished. It was as if she'd simply vanished into thin air.

On Wednesday morning, Sirius woke to several loud bangs, followed by a popping sound. "Prongs," he said blearily as he groped for his wand, "What —"

A heavy weight landed on his legs. "Happy birthday!" said James, beaming and bouncing up and down on Sirius' bed. "How does it feel to be of age?"

"A bit painful, actually," said Sirius, pushing James off of him. Another bang sounded from above as James tumbled to the floor, and Sirius looked up. Fireworks were exploding in the half-enchanted sky depicted on the ceiling of their dormitory. Another firework went off with a fizzing sound, raining down red and gold sparks upon the canopies of their beds.

"Nice," said Sirius appreciatively. He squinted at the ceiling, which looked suspiciously bright. "What time is it?"

"Half-past ten," said Peter. "We figured we'd let you sleep in. Hope you weren't planning on attending any classes today…"

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Sirius. He slid out of his silk pyjamas and into a set of robes which were crumpled in a pile on the floor. "Right, where're you lot hiding my presents?"

James waggled a finger at him. "Not so fast. That comes later."

"Sod later," said Sirius. He picked up his wand off the bedside table and cleared his throat. " _Accio presents_."

Nothing happened.

"You wankers," said Sirius. "You didn't get me any —"

Remus exchanged a glance with James before saying, "Do you remember what we're doing tonight, Pads?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "We're going to eat at the Three Broomsticks and then wreak havoc at that Muggle theme park in Lancashire."

"Right," said James. He cleared his throat. "There's been a slight change of plans. We'll have dinner at mine." He spoke so quickly Sirius could barely understand him. "I tried to talk them out of it, but you know how my parents are. You're like a second son to them, you know, and they wanted to celebrate. I know you probably think it's pants, spending the evening with them, so we don't have to stay long if you don't want, and after we can still —"

Sirius tackled him, and James broke off. "Of course I want to eat with your parents," said Sirius, ruffling James' hair. "They're lovely." His grin grew mischievous. "Lovely and rich, which makes for _excellent_ presents. Good show, Prongs."

They spent the morning drinking an expensive bottle of spirits that Peter had swiped from his mum before the start of term, and in the afternoon they mapped out the Prefect's bathroom in exquisite detail, per Sirius' request.

"I can't wait till we figure out how to track people on this thing," said Sirius, running his hands lovingly over the map. "Imagine knowing exactly which sequence of bubbles Madeleine Prewett in Ravenclaw likes in her bath…"

"You pervert," said Remus. "Let the poor prefects bathe in peace."

"You just don't want us to figure out why you spend so much time 'thinking about Arithmancy' in the prefect's bathroom," said Sirius.

"The mermaid statue is brilliant at solving equations," said Remus. "I've told you that before."

"Is she, now?" asked Sirius. "That's good to know. There are a couple of Arithmancy theorems I never could wrap my head around, I ought to tag along the next time you have a bath…"

Remus' nostrils flared, and Sirius winked at him.

In the Gryffindor common room that evening, James took a pinch of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace, making the flames blaze green. Professor McGonagall had spoken to James' parents and agreed to arrange a temporary connection between Fleamont Potter's study and the Gryffindor common room. Students were generally not allowed to leave Hogwarts mid-term, but Sirius suspected that Professor McGonagall was being lenient because she felt sorry for him. He almost wished she'd refused the Potters' request; the thought of being pitied by the Hogwarts professors made him deeply uncomfortable.

Before James stepped into the fire, he pointed at Remus and Peter. "I turned the Fanged Geranium on your bedside table into a Portkey, Pete. It'll take you to the theme park at nine o'clock sharp. Bring the girls, too, would you?"

"You're joking," said Peter. "I loved that plant!"

"I'll buy you another one for Christmas," said James. "Promise."

Peter made a face. " _And_ a new set of dress robes."

"Done," said James, checking his watch. "Right, see you lot at nine, then." He strolled into the flickering emerald flames and promptly disappeared.

Sirius followed suit, though he had to bend at the waist to fit inside the hearth. There was a roar in his ears as he spun through the flames and away from Hogwarts. He'd always liked travelling by Floo; it felt rather like being buffeted about by a massive storm. It was exhilarating.

The fire spat him out onto the crimson rug of Fleamont Potter's study. James was waiting for him, his hands in his pockets. "Took you long enough. Thought you'd forgotten the address."

"Of course you did," said Sirius. He smacked James on the back of his head. and James retaliated by jumping on him. They staggered downstairs, mock-fighting the entire way.

"Mum," called James as Sirius attempted to push him over the bannister, "we're home!"

The Potters were waiting for them at the dining room table. Sirius untangled himself from James long enough to shake hands with Fleamont and give Euphemia a kiss. "Thank you for the dinner, Mrs Potter." He scanned the table and his face lit up. "Did you make dumplings?"

Euphemia Potter draped an arm around Sirius and pulled him into a hug. She felt thinner than Sirius remembered, though her hugs were as comforting as ever. "A little birdie told me that dumplings are your favourite."

"They are." Sirius eyed the table hungrily as he sat down. So much food had been prepared that all the platters could hardly fit.

"How are things at Hogwarts?" asked Fleamont Potter, helping himself to some rice. He had the same uncontrollable shock of hair as James, though Fleamont's had long since gone white.

"Excellent," said James. "We have so much free time as sixth years, you wouldn't believe it. I get to practice Quidditch _every day_."

"Loads of homework, though," added Sirius through a mouthful of dumplings. "Nothing we can't handle, mind…"

James pushed a piece of flatbread around on his plate, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Dad, do you know Caradoc Dearborn?"

Fleamont blinked and pushed his spectacles up his nose. "In a manner of speaking. I occasionally consult with the Department of Magical Artefacts, and he comes through from time to time. Looking at licenses, that sort of thing — I think he deals with a lot of paperwork as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Why do you ask?"

"Erm," said James, "well, his daughter Sally's in Gryffindor, yeah? She's Head Girl, actually. Well, she was. I mean —"

"Sally went missing the other night," added Sirius. "Have you heard anything about it?"

Fleamont frowned. "I can't say that I have."

Euphemia set her fork down worriedly. "I don't recall there being anything in the _Prophet_ about a disappearance."

"Well, it's only been a few days," said James. "But there's been search parties and everything. Dumbledore made an announcement at breakfast on Monday."

"That's odd," said Fleamont. "I don't believe a student has been harmed at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years."

"Well, it's not certain that she was harmed, is it?" said James. "Caradoc could've taken Sally out of Hogwarts for her safety."

Sirius shook his head. "I think that's wishful thinking, mate. Right, Mr Potter?"

Fleamont exchanged a concerned look with Euphemia. "It's difficult to say. I certainly hope no ill has befallen Sally, for her sake." He peered at Sirius shrewdly over his spectacles. "By the way, Sirius — you may call me 'Fleamont' if you don't mind."

Sirius froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Er… right, that's — Fleamont, yeah —"

"Godric's mane, Padfoot," said James. "Just call him 'dad' already and be done with it. We've already practically adopted you."

"If you were a few years younger we would have," said Euphemia, relaxing a bit now that they had moved on to a lighter topic. "It's a bit late now since you are of age, but I hope you know that we consider you family, Sirius."

Sirius didn't respond; his face felt uncomfortably hot.

"Speaking of," said James as Lottie the house-elf began to clear their plates, "What'd you get Sirius for his birthday?"

Sirius kicked at James under the table. "Have some tact, will you?"

Euphemia smiled. "It _is_ time for presents, isn't it?" She rose from the table, but Lottie tugged on her sleeve and gestured for her to sit down, then sped out of the room. The house-elf returned only seconds later, holding a simple black box. She set it in front of Sirius and bowed low, backing into the hallway.

Sirius stared at the box. He glanced at Euphemia. "You really didn't have to —"

"Sirius," said James, "for the love of — "

Euphemia shushed him. "Don't thank us until you open it," she told Sirius. The wrinkles around her eyes grew deeper as she smiled warmly at him.

Sirius lifted the smooth lid of the box, and his eyes widened. Inside was a watch, but it didn't look like the kind that most wizards received on their seventeenth birthday. Generally, wizarding watches had multiple faces that charted the lunar cycle, or hands that told location as well as time, or a timer that ticked down to some unknown, usually fortuitous, future event. This watch only had one face, encased in gold and attached to a reddish-brown leather band, but it still looked exquisitely well-made.

"It's called an Elgin," said Fleamont when Sirius didn't say anything. "It's a Muggle brand; they only make them in America. It doesn't have many additional features — as far as I'm aware, it only tells the hour — but I know you like that old Muggle watch of yours, so…"

Sirius tried to examine the watch's hands, but it was difficult because his eyesight had gone all blurry. He sniffed. In an instant, Euphemia was on her feet, but James reached Sirius before she did and threw his arms around him. "We love you, mate. _I_ love you."

Sirius leaned into the brittle weight of Euphemia's arms as she joined the hug. A hand that must have been Fleamont's landed on his shoulder and squeezed a little.

"Our hope," said Fleamont in his grave, kind voice, "is that this birthday marks a new start for you. Your family casts a long shadow, but now you are free."

Sirius swiped at his eyes. "Thank you." He twisted a little, just enough to look at the Potters. "I love you, too."

* * *

After Lottie had finished clearing the table, James and Sirius ran up the stairs and into Fleamont's study. James thought that dinner had gone quite well, all things considered. Sirius had even shown emotion apart from anger or melancholy. That counted as a success in James' book.

In the study, James fished around in his bag and pulled out a quill with scraggly feathers that had been snapped in half. "What time is it?"

"Five till nine," answered Sirius. He grinned as he twisted his wrist back and forth, examining the way his new watch caught the light. "Your parents are bloody amazing, by the way."

"'Course they are," said James. "They're the best."

Sirius was still fixated on his watch. "Your dad went all the way to America to get this, I suppose?" He sounded casually disinterested, but James knew Sirius too well to be fooled by his tone of voice.

"Most likely. Anything for their second son."

Sirius' head snapped up. "Come off it. Your parents are good to me, but they don't — that's completely…"

He trailed off as the grandfather clock in the corner the study let out a solemn chime. James lunged forward and dragged Sirius' wrist to the quill just in time. He felt a strong tug around his abdomen, and Sirius yelped. The grandfather clock seemed to cut off mid-toll as they vanished.

They reappeared at the end of a long queue that stretched from a red ticket window to over halfway across a car park. James' knees buckled as he hit the concrete, and he nearly knocked over the man at the end of the queue.

The man turned with a disapproving frown, and James tried to look apologetic. "Erm, sorry, sir — my friend pushed me…"

The man grumbled something that sounded like ' _youth'_ before turning back around. Sirius nudged James in the ribs and gestured towards the ticket window, where three Muggles in uniform were taking funny-looking paper banknotes and passing out tickets.

"Brilliant, we made it," said James. "I wonder if the others are already here?"

Sirius was staring past the ticket window at the enormous wheel with dazzling neon lights that towered over the theme park. "I think I can see people in the passenger cars! This is _wicked_."

"Nice Muggle slang," said James. "Very natural." He craned his neck. Past the big wheel, there was what looked to be a convoluted train track with a steep hill, held hundreds of feet above the ground by wooden scaffolding.

When they reached the front of the queue, James reached for his wand, intending to Confund the Muggle behind the ticket window, but Sirius put a hand on his arm. "No need," he said brightly, pulling a wad of banknotes from his back pocket.

James' mouth fell slightly open as he watched Sirius shove the money at the Muggle attendant. "Whatever happened to being skint?"

"Leftover from the summer," explained Sirius. "I exchanged a lot of Galleons for Muggle money in August. Y'know, when I still had access to the vaults." He was watching the attendant sift through the banknotes with a look that was almost hungry.

"You genuinely like Muggle stuff, don't you?" asked James once the attendant had waved them through. "I thought you were just putting on an act to get under your parents' skin, but…"

"Of course I do," said Sirius, whose head was turning back and forth as they entered the theme park. He seemed more interested in the crowds of Muggles than the rows of brightly coloured game booths lining the street. "This is a completely different culture than ours. It's _cool_." He swept out his arms and indicated the towering big wheel and its illuminated, slowly-turning spokes.

"There you are!" said a voice. James turned; Remus was sitting on the edge of a large, circular fountain filled with jets of water that grew increasingly taller towards the centre. Beside him, Peter was trying to toss a handful of Knuts into the centre jets.

"You lot made it here alright, then?" asked Sirius, loping towards them.

Remus nodded. "We snuck everyone down the tunnel that leads to Honeydukes and took the Portkey once we were in Hogsmeade. No problems whatsoever."

"Where's the others?" asked James.

Peter threw a Knut into the fountain. "The girls are at a game booth that's offering an enormous stuffed lion as a prize." He tossed another coin, which landed with a splash. "I suspect the thing's rigged, though. And I think the Quidditch team are trying one of the coasters."

" _Roller_ coasters, Pete," said Sirius. "And the booths aren't rigged. Muggles believe in fairness — with hard work and a little luck, everyone can win."

"You sound like a textbook," said Peter. "Brushed up on Muggle Studies before you came here, did you?"

"Want to know what else I learned in Muggle Studies?" asked Sirius. He made an extremely rude gesture, and Peter responded throwing a Knut at him. Sirius ducked, and the coin soared over his shoulder, hitting a Muggle woman who was pushing a buggy.

"Sorry, ma'am," called James, laughing at Peter's look of horror. "Teenagers, you know…"

Sirius, Remus and Peter decided to see if they could help the girls win the stuffed lion. James had a sneaking suspicion that the booths really were rigged, despite Sirius' insistence otherwise, so he went to find the Quidditch team instead. He spotted Simon Ashworth towering over the queue for the roller coaster and pushed his way through the crowd to reach the rest of the team.

Peregrine Flint clapped a hand on James' back in greeting. "Alright, James? How's Sirius?"

"In his element," said James. "You ought to see the way he looks at the Muggles. I can't tell if he wants to eat them or ask for an autograph."

Parvana giggled. Out of all of them, she looked the most convincingly Muggle in a long wool coat and jeans. Peregrine, in contrast, was wearing a fluffy bathrobe over a pair of dungarees, and Simon was dressed, incredibly, in what looked to be an orange boilersuit.

"I'm not even going to ask," said James with a pointed look at Simon's outfit.

Simon, at least, had the good sense to look sheepish. "My mum's house-elf ordered it for me. From one of those, whaddaya call them, _catalogues_."

"I'd be interested in what catalogue she used," said James. "You look like a construction worker."

"A what?"

"Never mind," said James. He turned to Parvana. "At least _you_ look like you've set foot in Muggle England before."

Parvana's cheeks darkened. "My nanny growing up was a Muggle. I know that sounds… I mean, now, with things being how they are, it sounds…"

"A bit like pure-blood tosh?"

"Yeah," said Parvana. She gave him a small smile. "I really liked her, though. And she… I'm not sure if she ever worked out what my family was, specifically, but she knew we were a bit different. She made sure I got plenty of exposure to the… the Muggle world."

"Well, she did a good job," said James. "I think you look nice."

Peregrine wolf-whistled, and James shoved him good-naturedly. He stumbled backwards and nearly into the Muggle attendant who was running the turnstile; they'd reached the front of the queue for the roller coaster.

"This is going to be great," said Simon appreciatively as he climbed into the nearest car. He had to fold his long legs nearly to his chest to fit. "Imagine… in a minute we'll be going full speed down that big hill…"

"You say that like you've never done a Wronski Feint before," said Parvana as she, James, and Peregrine joined Simon in the car.

"Well, Simon plays Keeper, to be fair," said James. "I'm not sure he's ever moved more than five feet on a broom in a single stretch."

"You'd better watch it," said Simon, nudging James' shoulder. "Wouldn't want you to have an _accident_ as we're hurtling towards the ground…"

"Speaking of," said Parvana, as the car gave a little jolt and began to trundle forward, "I think this roller coaster's maximum speed is only sixty miles per hour."

"Sounds fast," said Simon.

"For a Keeper it is," said Parvana, and James snorted. "But I've done quicker on a training broom. So I thought, if we wanted to speed things up a bit…" She reached into the sleeve of her woolly coat and pulled out her wand.

James gawked at her. "You absolute _madwoman_."

Parvana merely smiled and set her wand across her lap.

The car moved jerkily along the track until it reached the base of the hill and began to climb slowly towards the top. The rumble of the car grew louder — James was certain that magic was less complicated than whatever mechanism was pulling the car steadily upwards — until they had nearly reached the crest of the hill. James peered over the edge of the car. From this height, the fluorescent lights of the game booths winked up at him like stars, and he wondered if the girls had won their stuffed lion.

The car jerked forward. Its nose tilted slowly downward, and James took a breath. The hill suddenly seemed much taller than it had from the ground. Beside him, Parvana whispered a spell.

"If I piss myself, Parvana —" started Peregrine, but the rest of his words were cut off as they plummeted towards the ground far below.

Faster and faster they went as they hurtled downward, gaining speed. Simon screamed. The incline was so steep, surely the car would be flung off the tracks — there was a metallic screech as the back wheels of the car came off the rails — the ground was rising to meet them, they were going to crash —

The car slammed into the bottom of the hill and _bounced,_ soaring off the tracks entirely and into the air. Simon's scream turned into something that sounded like a sob. The car did a corkscrew twist in midair, and James' stomach dropped as they were flipped upside down. After a moment, the car righted itself and began to plummet once more towards the tracks below. The cold night air rushed past James' face, and he whooped. Beside him, Parvana laughed.

"I think I'm going to be sick," announced Simon several minutes later when the car finally came to a halt at the entrance to the roller coaster. The perplexed Muggle attendant ushered them off the ride immediately, muttering something about faulty brakes.

James' legs wobbled as they staggered off the platform. He grabbed onto Parvana's arm for support. "That was _fantastic._ "

Parvana patted James' hand as she checked her watch. "We reached a top speed of one hundred and eighteen miles per hour," she said. "Excellent. I've only ever gotten up to one hundred and twelve on my broom." She looked around brightly at the rest of the team, whose faces were varying shades of green. "Who wants to go another round?"

* * *

"Where shall we go next?" asked Lily as she, Marlene and Mary left one of the brightly coloured booths and began to stroll towards the fountain. Mary was carrying a stuffed lion nearly as big as she was. At first, Lily had been reluctant to attend Sirius Black's birthday party — it had seemed in poor taste to be celebrating, after the news that the Head Girl had gone missing — but now that she was here, surrounded by the bright lights and the warm, familiar smells of the Muggle world, she was glad to have come.

"Let's buy candy floss," said Marlene. "I've always wanted to try some."

"You've had Fairy Floss at Honeydukes," said Lily. "Candy floss is exactly the same. Actually, it's worse, because it doesn't change colours."

Marlene waved a hand. "Don't spoil this for me. I wanna experience a traditional Muggle sweet."

Lily laughed and steered them towards a large map of the park. "Candy floss…" she muttered, running her finger down the map. There were so many attractions that it was difficult to tell where they were.

Somebody else stepped up to the map, and their coat brushed against Lily's arm. "Sorry," she said automatically, pulling away. She glanced at the stranger, who staring intently at the map. He was tall and angular, with carefully styled hair —

Lily blinked. " _Regulus_?"

He didn't so much as look at her. "Don't give me away."

Lily was still staring at him. He was wearing a black jumper and a starched wool coat instead of his usual tailored robes. He could have passed for a Muggle. "What are you doing here?"

"I think you know the answer to that." He traced the map with a finger much the same way she had done, though his hand was shaking slightly. "Do you happen to know where my brother is?"

"No, and I wouldn't tell you if I did," said Lily, irked that he was treating her cooly. "Why did you come here? To ruin his birthday?"

Regulus glanced over his shoulder before responding, and Lily followed his gaze. Mary and Marlene were sitting on the edge of the fountain and playing with the stuffed lion, paying them no mind. They must have charmed the lion, because it was looking around dopily, its tail twitching slightly.

"I overheard some of your House talking," said Regulus at last. "First about Sirius' birthday. Then about a Muggle theme park in Lancashire."

"You —"

He lifted a shoulder. "It didn't take a genius to realize he was having his birthday at the theme park. I couldn't figure out how your House was getting here, though. Portkey, or Floo, I suppose?" He looked at her as if waiting for confirmation, but Lily said nothing. After a moment, he continued. "Anyway, I ended up flying from Hogwarts. That took a few hours, but here I am."

"Congratulations," said Lily icily. "Here you are. And now you want to cause family drama on Sirius' birthday. Have I got that right?"

A hint of colour crept up Regulus' neck. "No. That's not — I just want to speak with him."

"About what?"

"You wouldn't understand. I just need —" He was rapidly losing the air of indifference he'd been putting on. "Our family, they've been — and now —" He glanced again towards Mary and Marlene.

"For God's sake," said Lily exasperatedly, looking around. There was a game booth a few yards away that boasted a cheerful array of balloons which needed to be popped with darts. She grabbed Regulus by the arm and dragged him around the corner of the booth. "I was right that you're here on family business, then."

Regulus seemed to relax slightly once they were hidden from the crowd. "In a manner of speaking."

"But Sirius is of age now, isn't he? Your family doesn't have any more say in what he does."

"I know," said Regulus. "That's another problem."

"How so?"

Regulus shifted his weight impatiently. "Look, I don't have time to get into details. And you wouldn't understand, anyway, as you're a —"

"A what, exactly?"

Regulus met her gaze. "I wasn't going to use the word you're thinking of. We're not all like that." He drew a deep breath through his nose, though it didn't seem to do much to steady his nerves. "I only mean to say that you don't know what it's like, being from an old pure-blood family — there are traditions. Responsibilities he ought to assume."

"Or else what?"

Regulus' mouth slanted downward into a frown. He looked as if he was considering the possibility for the first time. "They'll — remove him from the family. It won't be pretty."

"I dunno," said Lily. "If I was from a Dark family I think I'd be glad to be rid of them. I bet Sirius feels the same way."

Regulus was shaking his head. "That's not — he can't… I just want to talk to him, Lily. Do you know where he is?"

Lily regarded Regulus critically. He looked desperate; maybe she could use that to her advantage. "I'll tell you where Sirius is if you'll tell me what happened to Sally Dearborn."

Regulus blanched. He looked for a moment like he was going to be sick. "I don't know."

"Of course you don't. You show up in the hospital wing half-dead, then Sally gets into it with you at the prefect meeting, and now she's missing. Awfully convenient, isn't it?"

"No. She wasn't — look, I really don't know, alright?"

"I don't believe you," said Lily. "I'm not an idiot. I know about your new friends. I know what they're capable of."

Regulus' mouth twisted into a grimace. "I do, too. I'm sorry, Lily. I — I'm not sure what happened to Sally."

"It's too bad you won't be honest with me," said Lily. "I'd tell you where Sirius is, otherwise."

"No, you wouldn't."

"I would've," said Lily. "But seeing as you have a problem with the truth, that offer's rescinded now." Regulus flinched, and she softened a little. "Go back to Hogwarts, Regulus. Don't let your family use you as a pawn to hurt Sirius. You're better than that."

Regulus gave her a pained look. "I'm not. If you knew — if you had any idea what I've —"

"Oh, spare me the self-hatred," said Lily, who had had quite enough of that from Severus during fifth year. "You might go round with a bad crowd, but you're no Mulciber. Go home and let Sirius enjoy his birthday."

Regulus rubbed at his forehead. "You're being too kind to me."

I'm not being kind," said Lily. "I'm being honest."

"Honesty is a dangerous thing."

"Only if you have something to hide."

Regulus lifted his head a little, meeting her eyes. Unlike Sirius, there was something about his thin face that made him look so vulnerable.

"You can trust me," said Lily. She wasn't sure if that was true or not — she supposed it depended on whatever secret he was holding on to so tightly — but it seemed like the right thing to say.

His lips tightened, as if he'd made a decision, and he leaned towards her. "Lily," he said. His voice was barely louder than a breath. "Be careful. I've had a letter from my cousin. Hogwarts may not be safe."

Lily found herself whispering back. "I know it's not safe. Not if Sally…"

"Don't look for her," said Regulus. His voice was low and urgent. "You'll put yourself in danger. Promise me."

Lily swallowed. If she reached out, she could have touched his sweater with her fingertips. "I —"

" _Regulus_?" said a voice.

They sprang apart as quickly as if they had been pushed. Lily turned, and her stomach twisted guiltily. Sirius was striding towards them, followed by Remus.

"Sirius," said Regulus quickly, "I just wanted to —"

Sirius had a purple butterfly painted on his cheek, but it didn't detract from his murderous expression. "Get out."

Regulus didn't move. "I want to talk to you. Alone."

"Fat chance," said Sirius. His hand strayed towards his back pocket. "Leave before I make you."

Regulus peered around the booth. The park was crowded with people wandering from one attraction to another, clutching stuffed animals and all manner of sweets. "In plain view of Muggles? You wouldn't — you're not that stupid, are you?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "Real nice, Regulus. Very clever. LEAVE."

"Not until you talk to me," said Regulus.

"Back in Mum's good books, are you?" asked Sirius nastily. "I expect she sent you to find out when I'll stop by Grimmauld Place to assume my position as heir, did she? Well, the answer is never, so you can bugger off and relay that back to her —"

Regulus paled. "You're not going back?"

"Of course not," said Sirius. He let out a cruel laugh at Regulus' expression. "Don't tell me that's a surprise to you. After everything that happened this summer, did you _actually_ expect I'd —"

A soft hand slipped into Lily's. "What's going on?" asked Mary. Behind her, Marlene was trying to balance both the stuffed lion and a massive amount of candy floss on a stick. "Is that Sirius' brother?"

Lily nodded. "Family drama."

Sirius and Regulus were still going at it. "She'll burn you off the tapestry!" said Regulus, his voice rising.

"No, she won't," said Sirius. He strode towards Regulus until they were nearly nose-to-nose, and reached towards his back pocket. Lily instinctively put her hand over her own wand, which was tucked into the waistband of her skirt. But when Sirius pulled his hand from his pocket, Lily blinked. Were those —

"Letters," said Sirius in response to Regulus' dumbfounded look. "Every day, she sends me letters. She's been begging me to come back. You expect me to buy that she'll burn me off the tapestry?"

"She will," said Regulus, though he sounded less certain now. "She told me —"

"You should know better than to believe what she tells you," said Sirius. "She lies as often as she breathes."

Regulus' eyes were fixed on the envelopes in Sirius' hand. "She's really — writing you? Nice things?"

"Looks to be that way," said Sirius. "Tell me, what sort of correspondence is she sending you these days?"

A flush crept up Regulus' pale neck. "That not fair —"

"We all heard the Howler," said Sirius. "Mummy's disappointed that her favourite son turned out to be a coward, isn't she? No wonder she's giving me a second chance, considering you turned out to be the weakest link —"

There was a flash of light, and Sirius went flying backwards. He collided into a popcorn stand, which crumpled under his weight. In an instant, he was back on his feet, wand out. He charged towards Regulus, who had emerged from behind the booth and was holding his wand aloft. A few of the nearby Muggles had turned at the noise, looking for the source of the commotion —

" _Expelliarmus_!" cried Lily at the same time as Remus. Sirius' wand flew out of his hand, and Regulus' wand soared towards Lily. She caught Regulus' wand easily, while Sirius' wand went to Remus. Sirius, surprised by the loss of his wand, stopped in his tracks.

Remus pocketed Sirius' wand cooly. "Come on, Padfoot. Let's go check out that booth with the milk bottles, I've heard it's got excellent prizes —"

"I'm not leaving till he does," growled Sirius. He glared at Regulus, who looked murderous. "I'm not turning my back on this Squib of a Black —"

Regulus started forward, but Lily put herself between him and Sirius. She turned to face Sirius, her face hot with anger. "'Squib' isn't an insult," she said. "Don't let me catch you using that kind of language again."

Sirius' eyes widened. "I only meant — you're right, of course it's not —"

"We'll take Regulus back to Hogwarts," said Lily, gesturing towards herself, Mary and Marlene. "We can take our Portkey to Hogsmeade."

"Evans," began Sirius, but she had turned towards Remus.

"Don't give him back his wand."

"I wasn't planning on it," said Remus calmly.

Lily smiled a little. "We won the stuffed lion at the booth with the milk bottles, you know. The one with the rifle turned out to be rigged."

"Excellent," said Remus, returning her smile. "We'll go to the one with the milk bottles, then, see what we can get there." He put a hand on Sirius' shoulder and steered him away until they both vanished into the crowd of Muggles.

Lily sighed and looked at Mary and Marlene, who was holding Regulus by the collar of his jumper. She hated travelling by magic, but they had no other choice. "You've still got the Portkey, Marly?"

Marlene fished around in her bag with her free hand and eventually pulled out a crinkled gum wrapper. She set it on the ground, and, crouching, pulled her wand slightly out of her sleeve and began to mutter an incantation.

"Ready," said Marlene after a minute. She, Lily and Mary each took a corner of the wrapper. After a moment, Regulus, looking defeated, touched a finger to one of the wrapper's sides. The Portkey began to glow brightly. Lily's body was yanked forward, and then she was spinning, falling through space.

* * *

Sirius refused to acknowledge that the booth with the milk bottles was any fun at all. He scowled the entire time Remus had a go at knocking over the bottles using a little white ball. Finally, after winning a small stuffed dog (technically, the prize had been a stuffed monkey, but a few charms from Remus while the Muggle attendant was distracted had fixed that easily enough), Remus turned to Sirius with a sigh. "You're just going to sit there and pout, then?"

"I'm not pouting," said Sirius sullenly.

Remus said nothing, which meant Sirius had to fill the silence with the truth. "Fine," he said. "I am, a little. I just — I dunno where Reg gets off, coming here. Saying he wants to talk, as if we can't talk perfectly well at Hogwarts. But no, we have to do it two hundred miles away in bloody Lancashire instead…"

Remus held the stuffed dog out towards Sirius, and he eyed it sceptically. It was small and black with soft-looking fur and mournful grey eyes. "That looks like Padfoot."

"I know," said Remus. "Happy birthday, Sirius."

Sirius grabbed it and crossed his arms. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Remus, tossing the Muggle attendant at the booth a few coins. "Fancy a drink or several?"

Sirius squeezed the dog tighter. "Now you're speaking my language."

They ended up on the roof of the ticket office, sharing a flask that Remus had hidden under his coat. The theme park with all its dazzling lights stretched before them, packed with Muggles who were laughing and eating and talking loudly. Sirius had spent all evening looking for Dorcas in the crowd, but he hadn't seen her. It had been a long shot, anyway. Lancashire was probably far from London, for a Muggle.

"Should I feel sorry?" asked Sirius, setting down the flask. By all rights, they should have finished it by now, but somehow the little metal container remained nearly full.

"For what?" asked Remus. "Nearly breaking the Statute of Secrecy during your attempted duel with your brother?"

Sirius reached over and jostled him. "You know for what."

Remus smiled a little. His eyes were on the big wheel which loomed over them, bright and round like a neon moon. "You really got under Regulus' skin, didn't you?"

Sirius grunted. "He shouldn't have come here."

"No," agreed Remus. "He shouldn't have. But you can't honestly be surprised that he did."

Sirius shrugged and reached for the flask. "Well, I'm not sorry for being horrible to him, even if I ought to be. He's the same with me, sometimes. Knows just what to say."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me. I never said you had to be sorry."

Sirius fiddled with the cap of the flask. "I don't know why I do things sometimes. When I saw him... I _wanted_ to make him angry. I lied to him, too." He pulled the letters out of his pocket. "I told him our mum's been begging me to come home, but I honestly don't know what these letters say. I haven't read them. Haven't read any since the first."

Remus was watching Sirius now, with that expression he sometimes got — like he was trying to see down to Sirius' bones. "Why not?"

"Because they're from _her_."

"Your mum?"

"Yeah." Sirius sighed. "Regulus and I get under each other's skin, but we're nothing compared to our mum. She uses words like a weapon. She knows exactly what to say to get the results she wants. Whatever she's written, it'll hurt. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the lot of them." He leaned into Remus, resting his head on Remus' shoulder.

Remus tensed. "Regulus… that is…" He sounded a little unsteady. "Regulus said something about your responsibilities as heir. What was that about, exactly?"

"My responsibilities? Nothing exciting. I'm supposed to help my father manage the family fortune — making investments, that sort of thing. But I won't do it. I won't go back to Grimmauld Place."

A crease formed between Remus' eyebrows. "You _want_ them to disown you."

"Yes," said Sirius.

"Because of the way they've treated you?"

"Because I hate them." The dark, ugly truth rose like bile in his throat. "I wish I didn't, but I do. I truly do." He flopped onto his back, and the rough tiling of the roof caught against the fabric of his coat. After a moment, Remus lay down beside him. Sirius searched the sky, trying to make out the constellations, but the lights from the theme park were so bright that night was endlessly black.

Sirius spoke first. "You and I… we're alright, aren't we? You'd tell me if we weren't?"

"Padfoot." Remus sounded half-exasperated. "Trust me. We're fine."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Even though, last year — I…"

"Forgiven," said Remus firmly. "You made a mistake. You apologized. That's all there is to it."

" _You_ don't make mistakes."

"Tell that to the P I got on McGonagall's essay on Switching Spells."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." There was an aeroplane far above them. Its yellow lights winked as it moved across the sky. "All I do is make mistakes," said Sirius. "You. Dorcas. Reg. I hurt people. And I know when I'm about to do it. I know I'm making a mistake. I just don't care."

"To be fair, your childhood didn't exactly include morality lessons."

"That's no excuse," said Sirius. He sat upright, suddenly angry, and jabbed a finger at Remus. " _You've_ been a werewolf since you were five. Your childhood was worse than mine and Reg's put together, and somehow you're not bitter. You don't hurt people. You don't hate anyone. You're _good_."

Remus' voice was as calm as pond water. "I'm bitter."

"No, you're not. You're good, and you always do the right thing, and I don't know why you hang around arseholes like me when — when —"

Remus picked up the flask and turned it over in his hands. "How much have you had to drink tonight, Pads?"

"Hush. We're talking about you."

Remus didn't respond for a long minute. "Since you've been so forthcoming tonight," he said at last, "I'll let you know something about me." He sat up and turned to face Sirius directly. "I'm a coward. I'm afraid of everything."

"You're not a coward," said Sirius immediately. "Moony, you —"

"There's no need to flatter me," said Remus. He fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper, pulling at a fraying thread. "I'm afraid of you lot abandoning me. I'm afraid of my secret getting out. I'm afraid of the moon." They both glanced up, nearly reflexively, at the moon, which hung heavy and bright in the sky.

"Look," said Sirius. "I know the self-loathing thing is very _Moony_ , and all, but if you're a coward, then I am too."

"Come off it," said Remus. "You might be a bit hard-headed, but you're not —"

"You think I'm not afraid of my family? Of what would have happened if I'd listened to whatever rubbish Reg had to say tonight? I can't even open my mum's _letters_ —"

"That's different," said Remus. "Those are rational fears."

"Your fears are rational, too."

"They're really not," said Remus. "All I've got is a bunch of useless worries running around my head."

Sirius glanced at Remus. He looked as composed and as kind as he always did. "You do a good job of hiding it."

Remus gave him a small, sad smile. "I'm good at hiding things." He stood and stretched a hand towards Sirius, helping him to his feet. "Let's go back to the others before they start to wonder where we've gone."

* * *

 **A/N:** I've had some really lovely comments the past few weeks, so I just wanted to say a heartfelt thanks to those who have commented! I'm glad that people are enjoying the journey with these characters as much as I am :)


	21. The Muggle-Born Protection Act

In the week that followed, Professor Slughorn called each of the Followers into his office separately to question them about the night Sally Dearborn disappeared. He was clearly attempting to be tough on them and actually took two points from Slytherin when Severus told him, honestly, that he didn't know what had happened to Sally. Students from other Houses were speculating that Sally's father had pulled her out of Hogwarts to protect her from being a political target, but after being interrogated by Slughorn, Severus was certain they were wrong. Professor Slughorn wasn't much of an actor, and worry had been written into every wrinkle of his soft face. No, Sally's disappearance had been unplanned; Severus was certain of that much.

Mulciber signed the Followers up for a search party in the dungeons, which was largely a farce. Instead of combing the dungeons like the other search parties, the Followers spent the hour eating sandwiches and doing Potions homework in the unused laboratory in Dungeon Four while a pair of pathetic-looking house-elves waited on them. The whole thing was so pointless that even Regulus Black didn't bother to attend. He likely preferred to mope about his dormitory, as he'd been doing since the previous weekend. Severus, being well-acquainted with the benefits of a good brood, left him to it. He wasn't missing much; Severus himself was only able to stave off boredom by making extensive corrections to Avery's homework.

"Did Slughorn have the same look on his face when he was questioning you lot?" asked Mulciber, gesturing for one of the house-elves to refill his mug of Butterbeer. "I thought he needed the loo, he looked constipated…"

Rosier laughed. "Who knew he had such a soft spot for blood traitors? He seemed to actually be worried about Dearborn…"

"Well, he should be," said Mulciber. "She was an obvious target, what with her Muggle-loving father making headlines and all. It was only a matter of time before someone got to her."

That was interesting. Severus paused, his quill hovering over Avery's parchment.

"Who d'you reckon did her in?" asked Wilkes. Mulciber raised his eyebrows, saying nothing, and Avery's eyes bugged out.

"You didn't — when you left the Great Hall…"

"More sandwiches please, house-elf," said Mulciber, ignoring Avery's spluttering.

Severus resisted the urge to hurl an inkwell at the lot of them. He contented himself instead with crossing out another large swath of Avery's essay. Mulciber could make insinuations all day long, but that didn't mean Severus believed him. It was so like Mulciber to act more important than he was. All the same, if he had somehow managed to hurt Sally, and Severus could prove it… Mulciber would surely be expelled, and then the role of mentor would pass to Severus by default. It was worth looking into.

Before leaving Dungeon Four, Severus slipped an extra sandwich into his bag and went to check on Regulus. He rapped impatiently at the fifth year dormitory door, but there was no response.

Severus tried the handle, but the door had been bolted from the other side. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I don't have time for this, Regulus."

After a moment, there was a scraping sound as the bolt was drawn back, and the door swung open. "I didn't ask you to come," said Regulus. He looked surprisingly well, considering that his constitution was frail at baseline and he was on his third skipped lunch of the week.

Severus withdrew the sandwich from his bag. "You have to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

Severus had expected this and decided to leverage Regulus' incomprehensible love of sport against him. "I'm surprised you don't want to eat, considering the upcoming match against Gryffindor. Do you want your brother's House to win?"

Regulus looked for a moment like he was going to protest, but then his eyes narrowed. "Since when do you care about Quidditch?"

"I don't," said Severus. "But you do. So eat."

Regulus reluctantly took the sandwich. "Thanks." He took a bite, and his nose wrinkled slightly. "I don't like liverwurst."

"Neither do I. That's why I saved it for you."

Regulus shrugged. "Fair enough." He took another bite of sandwich.

"I'm not going to ask why you've been moping around, because I don't care," said Severus. "But if you decide to lock yourself away tomorrow as well, I'll endeavour to bring ham and cheese."

"I'm not locking myself away," muttered Regulus. "Thanks, though."

"So," said Severus, feeling he'd buttered up Regulus as much as he was capable, "did you and Avery help Mulciber murder Sally Dearborn?"

Regulus choked on his sandwich. What followed was a long minute of coughing until Severus finally conjured a glass of water and shoved it into Regulus' hand.

"Thanks," said Regulus weakly after gulping down the water. "And no. We didn't help Mulciber _murder Sally Dearborn_. By the Baron, Severus, your mind must be twisted if you think — even the _possibility_ —"

"It was only logical. I figured being an accessory to murder was a plausible explanation for your sudden mood."

"Did you, now," said Regulus waspishly.

"Well, even if _you_ didn't murder her, there's still the possibility that Avery and Mulciber —"

"No, there isn't," said Regulus. "Edmund didn't do anything, at least. I was with him the whole time."

"Obviously," said Severus. "Avery's got even less initiative than you have, he's a complete sycophant. The most likely culprit is still Mulciber."

"Sure," said Regulus, "but you wouldn't think — I can't imagine that a student could get away with murdering another student. Not at Hogwarts."

"What about the Chamber of Secrets, thirty years ago?" countered Severus. The story was well-known in Slytherin, as it was usually told to frighten first years. "The giant gamekeeper with his Acromantula, and the girl in the bathroom — nobody would have figured out he'd done it if the Head Boy hadn't had a hunch…"

Regulus frowned. "I suppose."

"Let us pray Chester Fernsby is similarly talented at investigating," said Severus sarcastically, but Regulus didn't smile. "What? You don't want the Head Boy to save the day? He might be awarded a trophy, like the last one was —"

"That isn't funny. We don't know where Sally is, she could be — it isn't right to make jokes —"

"There's also no need to wallow in your dormitory until she's found," Severus pointed out. "It's possible to be concerned for her safety and still eat regular meals. The two aren't mutually exclusive, you know."

Regulus shot him a sharp look. "You wouldn't know the first thing about being concerned for others."

It was only with great effort that Severus avoided thinking about a certain girl with red hair and a laugh like flowing water. "Is that so?"

"You said that you prioritize self-preservation over all else. That you'd place your own well-being over mine every time, if I recall. Did I get that right?"

"Yes," said Severus peevishly, "but I am still capable of — look at the sandwich in your hand, for God's sake, and tell me I'm not _concerned_ —"

"You care about me because you want to stay in Bella's good graces," said Regulus, "but I don't believe for a second that you're actually worried about Sally. And what about Mulciber?"

Severus frowned. "Why would I be concerned about Mulciber?"

"I'd think it would be obvious," said Regulus. "He's not one for half measures — either he killed Sally or he didn't. If he did, Dumbledore will figure it out, and he'll be expelled. If he didn't —"

"...She'll have gotten away," finished Severus. "And I suppose Bella won't be pleased."

Regulus' expression was grim. "I've been writing to her. And she won't be."

"You've heard from her?" Severus tried to tamp down the surge of jealousy threatening to overtake him. "Recently? You've told her about Sally?"

"No," said Regulus at once, "no, not about Sally, it's — it's family matters." He flushed. "Sirius came of age recently, and I'm trying — well, he's supposed to — my parents expect, and if we can buy a bit of time, I'm hoping he'll — and I've got another cousin who Bella says is —"

Severus mentally reviewed the steps to brewing the Draught of Living Death while Regulus rattled on. He had no desire to hear the sordid details of Sirius Black's personal problems.

"Anyway," concluded Regulus at last, "Bella's paying Mulciber a visit tonight, so depending on what happens I guess we'll know if he had a hand in Sally's disappearance or not."

"Really?" asked Severus. "How is she getting to Hogwarts?"

Regulus looked at Severus strangely. "In the unmonitored Floo of Dungeon Thirteen, I'm assuming."

Severus kept his expression neutral, not wanting to give away his surprise that Dungeon Thirteen boasted an unmonitored Floo. In hindsight, it made perfect sense. He'd have thought of it earlier, except he had woefully little experience with magical means of transportation. That was the curse of being a half-blood, he supposed.

That night, after the other Followers went to bed, Severus ducked behind a high-backed armchair in the common room just long enough to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. Then he slipped out the entrance to the common room and slunk silently to Dungeon Thirteen. The room was dark and eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle from the green embers glowing in the hearth. Severus crouched behind one of the pristine white sofas and waited.

One hour passed. Then two. Severus wished he'd thought to bring his Potions book; he could have at least gotten some work done while he waited.

Finally, at nearly a quarter to one, the door to Dungeon Thirteen creaked open. Mulciber, wearing dark green pyjamas, padded over to the fireplace and tossed what must have been Floo powder in it. The fire flared brightly, bathing the room in flickering emerald light. Severus shrank back on instinct, though with his Disillusionment Charm he was quite certain he was effectively invisible.

Mulciber leaned over the fireplace, put one hand on the mantle, and muttered something indistinct. After a moment he pulled back, and Bella stepped out of the flames. She was taller and noticeably thinner than the last time Severus had seen her.

"Well?" she asked. The flames carved deep shadows into the angle of her jaw.

"Dearborn's been taken care of," said Mulciber.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I took care of her."

Bella arched a single, haughty eyebrow. "You alone?"

"That's right." Mulciber's chest swelled self-importantly. "I caught her off-guard on Halloween. One Killing Curse was all it took. What's left of her is behind a tapestry on the third floor."

Bella smiled and cupped his face between her long-fingered hands. "Augustus. My darling."

Mulciber gave what he clearly thought was a modest shrug. Bella tilted his face towards hers, and for a moment it looked like she was going to kiss him. Then her lips brushed past his cheek, and she whispered into his ear. " _You lie_."

She moved so quickly Mulciber didn't have a chance to react. With a few swift movements of her wand, Mulciber was suspended in the air as if by an invisible noose. He gagged as his hands scrabbled at his neck.

The muscles in Bella's wiry arms were taut as she pointed her wand at him. "You think you can lie to me, Augustus? To ME?"

Mulciber made a choking noise that might have been a 'no'. Bella jerked her wand upward, her face contorted with fury, and Mulciber collapsed in a heap on the ground.

"Your mind betrays you," she spat.

Mulciber's voice was hoarse. "Bella… I —"

"You have failed me. Again and again, you have failed me."

"Bellatrix," panted Mulciber. "Please."

She stooped and pressed her wand into his cheek. " _CRUCIO_."

It was nearly morning before Bella grew bored and vanished into the fire, her long black robes swirling behind her. Mulciber lay unmoving on the floor for so long that Severus almost considered intervening; eventually, though, Mulciber managed to pull himself upright and staggered out of Dungeon Thirteen. After another half hour of waiting, just to be certain, Severus followed suit. As he headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast, Mulciber's screams echoed in his mind like a particularly disturbing melody.

Mulciber had been stupid to think he could lie to Bella, but their midnight meeting had certainly been enlightening. If he truly hadn't ambushed Sally on Halloween, then that narrowed the list of potential culprits down to the other Followers — or Dumbledore, or Sally's father, of course. Severus doubted one of the other Followers had tried anything; Wilkes and Rosier were capable of violence but unmotivated, while Avery and Regulus were too neurotic to draw a wand on Sally without soiling themselves first. As for Dumbledore, that old warlock was always seven steps ahead of everyone else. Severus wouldn't have been surprised in the least if Dumbledore had conspired with Caradoc Dearborn to take Sally away from Hogwarts for her safety. In fact, this was what had likely happened, considering the news that Sally was missing hadn't even made the _Prophet_.

Mulciber didn't attend any classes that day, so Severus was forced to go to their dormitory to talk to him. He hovered over Mulciber's sleeping form like a bat for nearly five minutes, hoping the force of his glare would wake him, but Mulciber didn't stir.

"Augustus," said Severus at last. "Wake up."

Mulciber let out a long groan before rolling over. He recoiled as he realized who was speaking to him. "What do you want?"

"It's time for our ritual," said Severus.

Mulciber grunted and turned away from him. "Today's ritual is cancelled. Go stick your greasy nose in your Potions book or something."

"You wound me," said Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mulciber made a rude gesture at him. "Go away, Snape."

Severus didn't move. After a moment, Mulciber groaned with frustration and threw a pillow at him. "What is _wrong_ with you? I said GO AWAY."

"You were stupid to lie to Bella."

Mulciber's heavy brow furrowed. "Who told you —"

"It's obvious," said Severus. "I don't feel sorry for you at all. You should have known better than to lie to her."

"Snape, I am half a second away from hexing you —"

"Terrifying." Severus' voice was as smooth as poisoned honey. "I just wanted to congratulate you. Keep up the good work, Augustus."

"The…" Mulciber blinked.

"When do you think Bella will decide we need someone a little more capable as our mentor?" Severus took a certain savage pleasure at the way Mulciber's eyes widened. Apparently, the idea hadn't occurred to him. "I'm predicting one more blunder will do the trick. What say you?"

"You're delusional," spat Mulciber. "You think Bella would pick you over me? You're _nothing_. Your blood's dirtier than a house-elf's, nobody in their right mind would take orders from you —"

Severus' mouth twisted angrily, and he drew his wand. "You _dare_ —"

"Go ahead," said Mulciber. "Hex me with one of your little spells. It doesn't change the facts. You're only a Follower because Lucius felt _sorry_ for you —"

Severus cursed Mulciber with a particularly uncomfortable facial rash and stormed out of the dormitory. The spell would wear off in an hour or two, so he wasn't overly concerned. It was better than what Mulciber deserved.

* * *

Lily perched on a windowsill in a seventh-floor corridor, alternating between working on her Charms essay about the five principles of colour-changing and watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice for their upcoming match against Slytherin. She chewed on the end of her quill, then dipped it into her inkwell and began her second paragraph. _The desired colour must be a compliment of the base hue_ , she wrote. _To obtain shades outside this range, multiple charms must be precisely layered according to…_

She glanced out the window. Half a mile away, on the Quidditch pitch, the Gryffindor Chasers were practising some sort of complicated manoeuvre. A blur of crimson leathers that looked to be James Potter broke away from the group and did a few loops around one of the goalposts.

Lily hoped they could beat Slytherin next week. She hoped they humiliated Slytherin. She could feel in her gut that Mulciber's group had a hand in Sally Dearborn's disappearance. She would bet every Galleon of her Hogwarts stipend on it.

"Lily?"

She blinked, turning away from the window. Mary MacDonald was looking up at her, a copy of the _Daily Prophe_ t clutched tightly in her hands. "Mary. What's wrong?"

Mary shook her head. "Nothing. It's, erm, it's good news."

Lily bent her knees to her chest to make room for Mary on the windowsill, and Mary hoisted herself up to sit beside her. "If it's good news, then why do you look like someone died?"

"Oh," said Mary. Her voice was much higher than usual. "It's just… It's the Muggle-born Protection Act. It passed." She thrust the rumpled copy of the _Prophet_ towards Lily.

Lily unfolded the newspaper. Emblazoned on the front page was a photo of Caradoc Dearborn, who looked weary but triumphant as he raised a hand towards the camera. Below him, in bold letters, the headline read: _Muggle-Born Protection Act Approved by House of Lords, to Become Law_.

"Wow," said Lily. Her voice sounded hollow. "That's brilliant."

"Yeah," said Mary, wrapping her arms around her knees. "It is, I guess."

They looked at each other. Mary's brown eyes were large with worry, and Lily knew she must look similar. "What are we going to do, Mary?"

Mary's eyes welled with tears. "I don't know. I don't want my family to have to — to hide, or move, or leave Middlesbrough because of me. I'd rather go back to the Muggle world."

"You don't mean that!"

"I do," said Mary, although tears were running down her cheeks. "I'm not like you. I'm not good at magic. I was never going to be anything impressive. I could rejoin the Muggle world, get a normal job… I was thinking I'd quite like to be a flight attendant…"

Lily could feel her heart breaking. "Do you really think you could leave all this behind?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll just be for a bit. Until everything with that Dark wizard blows over."

 _Poor Mary_ , thought Lily. _Poor, naive Mary_. "You know it won't be that simple."

Mary sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "McGonagall wants to meet with all of us — the Gryffindors with Muggle parents, I mean — this evening to talk about what comes next. For our families. So we know our options."

Lily looked back down at the Daily Prophet. "They're still not releasing the details of the Act publicly?" Mary shook her head, and Lily bit her lip. "I suppose that's a good thing. It'll keep that information from falling into the wrong hands."

"I guess," said Mary. She checked her watch and clambered off the windowsill. "I've got to go to Muggle Studies. See you this evening?"

Lily hopped off the windowsill and threw her arms around Mary. They held each other tightly for a long minute. "It'll be okay," murmured Lily as she smoothed Mary's hair. She wasn't sure if she was trying to comfort Mary or herself. "Everything's going to be alright."

Later that evening, Lily knocked on the door of Professor McGonagall's office, and the door swung open of its own accord. The office had been rearranged; Professor McGonagall's desk was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a circle of twelve chairs in the middle of the room.

"Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall, who was sitting in one of the chairs, her back ramrod straight. "Please have a seat."

Lily sat down with a glance at the other Gryffindors. The majority of them were younger students who she recognized but didn't know the names of, although there were a few older students as well. Mary was seated next to Professor McGonagall, and she gave Lily a little smile, looking considerably more cheerful than she had earlier.

Peregrine Flint patted Lily on the back as she sat in the unoccupied chair beside him. "Evans. Good to see you."

Lily gave a start. "Peregrine? Aren't you — I thought —" His family was definitely one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, weren't they? What was he doing here?

Peregrine grinned at her confusion, and the freckles on his cheeks bunched up. "My little sister's a Squib."

"Ah!" said Lily, flushing. "I'm sorry — I had no idea."

Peregrine shrugged. "Nobody does. The official story is we sent her off to Beauxbatons last year. Though 'Beauxbatons' in this case means 'Wycombe Abbey.'" His grin widened.

A tiny first year girl with skin as pale as alabaster scurried into the last empty chair with a frightened glance at Professor McGonagall, and Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Good of you to join us, Miss Roberts. Now that we're all here, let us begin." Her tone was brisk as she shuffled the papers on her lap. "As I am sure you're all aware, the House of Lords approved the Muggle-born Protection Act this morning. The Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum, is expected to sign the Act into law sometime in the coming weeks. Professor Dumbledore has asked all the Heads of House to meet with our respective students with immediate family members who are Muggles to discuss the next steps."

Lily didn't like the sound of any of this, and by the looks on the other students' faces, she wasn't the only one. She raised her hand in the air. "Professor? When you say 'next steps', do you mean… Does Dumbledore want us to comply with this Act?"

Professor McGonagall's expression was grave. "He thinks it would be wise. The situation is even more dire than the _Prophet_ has been reporting."

"Really, Professor?" said Peregrine, whose grin had vanished. "Because it's bad enough what they're printing already, about the random disappearances of Muggles…"

"Those disappearances are not random," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "The Death Eaters — a group I would hope you all are familiar with — are targeting Muggles with connections to the Wizarding World. With connections to the Ministry, to be exact."

Lily felt like she couldn't breathe. "Like Sally."

McGonagall's eyes flashed towards her. "Exactly like Miss Dearborn. Several members of the House of Mages have personally lost loved ones as a result, and at least one member of the House of Lords. These" —her nostrils flared— "these despicable murders are an act of cowardice intended to pressure the Ministry into retracting the Muggle-born Protection Act. They have not succeeded. This is in large part because, despite the opinion of a handful of radicals, the rest of us believe that _you belong here_." Her hawkish eyes swept over each student as she spoke, blazing with conviction, and a lump hardened in Lily's throat.

Peregrine was frowning. "Who in the House of Lords lost a family member? I didn't hear anything about that, and, y'know, my uncle's a Lord…" He trailed off, seeming embarrassed to have brought up his family's status to room full of Muggle-borns.

Professor McGonagall eyed Peregrine sharply. "Flint, you are an intelligent young man. Which family of the Twenty-Eight makes the most obvious target for these cretins?"

Peregrine's shoulders sagged. "The Weasleys."

Lily recognized the surname, as there had been several Weasleys on the Gryffindor Quidditch team during her first years at Hogwarts. Aside from their bright red hair, they hadn't stood out much to her. Why would they be a target for Death Eaters?

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly, acknowledging Peregrine's response, and began to pass around the stack of papers she was holding. "All Muggles who can prove ties to the Wizarding World have several options. The first, which the Ministry most highly recommends, is resettlement."

A small squeak escaped the pale first year's throat. Professor McGonagall glanced sharply at her. "Do you have something to say, Miss Roberts?"

The girl shook her head quickly, looking at her feet. The other students were similarly trying to avoid Professor McGonagall's gaze. _Well, fine_ , thought Lily. If she and Peregrine had to be the designated spokespeople, then so be it. Lily raised her hand.

"What do you mean by 'resettlement', Professor? Will my mum have to move to Leicester, or —"

"Not Leicester, Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall, who looked like she was trying to phrase things delicately. "The Ministry is recommending America."

Several students gasped. "You're _joking_ ," said Peregrine. "America? But you can't even Floo there… For how long?"

Professor McGonagall shut her eyes briefly. "These resettlements are a great undertaking on the part of the Ministry and the Magical Congress of the United States, Flint. It involves not only the forging of papers, but the creation of a whole new identity. Those who resettle will appear to always have lived in America and will have no ties whatsoever to Britain. Such resettlement would be permanent."

Peregrine kicked the leg of his chair with his heel, looking furious. "And would we be allowed to _visit_ , at least?"

"Peregrine Flint," said Professor McGonagall softly, "surely you know the answer to that question already."

Lily's throat was completely dry. "So that's the — the recommended option," she said. "What other choices do we have?"

"Safe houses," said Professor McGonagall. "Fidelius charms. Obliviation. It's all in the paperwork, if you look it over."

"Fidelius…?"

"It's a spell that makes a secret out of someone's location," said Professor McGonagall. "Only those privy to the secret can find the person in question."

That didn't sound very impressive to Lily. She wasn't about to ask her mum to play a version of magical Hide-and-Seek with the Death Eaters. "Okay," she said, folding the papers and putting them into her bag. "I'll talk to my mum over the Christmas holidays and see what she thinks about all this."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "If your mother has questions" —her eyes swept the room— "if _any_ of your family members have questions, I would be more than happy to answer them. I am available by owl or Floo at any time, and I can make house visits if necessary."

"You should visit my family," grumbled Peregrine, "and talk them out of sending my sister to bloody _America_."

"Rest assured that we will discuss all the options," said Professor McGonagall. She stood up and smoothed her tartan robes. "Back to Gryffindor Tower, then, all of you. It's getting late."

Lily hung back while the rest of the students filed out. "Professor," she ventured, as Professor McGonagall was shutting the door.

"Yes, Miss Evans?"

"I have a question."

"If it's about the Muggle-born Protection Act, then I must ask that it wait," said Professor McGonagall. She drew her wand and began to return her office to its normal arrangement. "I know the contents of the Act are very upsetting, so I think you ought to sleep on it before we discuss in greater depth—"

"It's about Sally Dearborn, Professor."

Professor McGonagall's wand stilled. The furniture that had been puttering around the room came to a halt. "And what," she said after a moment, "pray tell, is the question?"

Lily spoke quickly so she wouldn't lose her nerve. "There's all these rumours about what might have happened to her — because of who her father is, you know. Some think she's gotten hurt, but most people are saying her father pulled her out of Hogwarts and is keeping it quiet. But I saw Caradoc Dearborn's picture in the papers, and he doesn't look happy, does he? You'd think that if his proposal passed and his daughter were safe, he would look less worried."

The chairs resumed their scurrying around the room as Lily spoke. She peered at Professor McGonagall, who appeared to be focusing intently on the rearrangement of her office. "I am still waiting for your question, Miss Evans."

"Oh," said Lily. "Right. I suppose I'm wondering — do you know what happened to Sally? Is she alright?"

Professor McGonagall always carried herself with an intensity that belied her age, but at that moment she looked older and more tired than Lily had ever seen her. "I wish I could tell you that Sally is safe," said Professor McGonagall. "I wish I could assure you that her father knows where she is. But neither I nor the Headmaster know what has happened to her."

Lily suddenly felt very small. "I see. I was hoping…"

"That my answer would be different?"

Lily nodded.

"I wish it were," said Professor McGonagall. She peered over her square spectacles at Lily, and her expression softened. "You can rest assured that the Headmaster and I are doing all that is within our power to find her."

Lily took a deep breath. "I want to help."

"The sign-up sheet for search parties —"

"No offence, Professor, but those search parties are useless," said Lily. "Sally went missing because of the Death Eaters, just like the other Ministry-related disappearances, isn't that right? Do you really think What's-His-Name would stuff her in a broom closet for a bunch of students to find?"

Professor McGonagall paused. "I have raised similar concerns with the Headmaster. He believes, however — and I share his opinion, to an extent — that the ingenuity of the student body is not to be underestimated. You are a resourceful group."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Lily, "because I'm going to need more resources to find her. Getting access to the Restricted Section of the library would be a good start, I think."

Professor McGonagall almost smiled. "Do you have any spare parchment?"

Lily left the office a few minutes later, clutching a permission slip for the Restricted Section. Instead of returning to Gryffindor Tower, she headed for the library on the first floor. Professor McGonagall had recommended a few books on the theory of tracing magical signatures.

She had work to do.

* * *

James spent the following week rigorously training for the match against Slytherin. He put himself on an all-protein diet and was averaging eight eggs a day, and he spent so much time practising drills that even his dreams were filled with Quidditch. The end result of all this was that he felt quite confident by the time Saturday rolled around. The day was overcast and quite windy — objectively poor weather for Quidditch — but that didn't dampen James' spirits in the least. He was confident his team could handle flying in adverse conditions.

"Right, you lot," he said in the changing room after they had all gotten into their Quidditch robes. "We've got one objective for this match: _humiliate Slytherin_."

"Fantastic," said Marlene. She and Sirius knocked their bats together. "Let's show those pure-blooded arseholes how real wizards play Quidditch."

"That's the spirit," said James, deciding it was best not to point out that the Gryffindor Quidditch team was also composed exclusively of pure-bloods. "I'm not content with just beating them. I want to see them crushed. Simon, don't let them get so much as a shot at those hoops. Parvana, if you can catch the Snitch in the first two minutes, I will personally take you to Hogsmeade and buy you whatever you want. Am I clear?" The team nodded; Parvana's face was set with determination.

"Excellent," said James, shouldering his broom. "Let's go spill some serpent blood."

It didn't take long for the match to grow dirty; apparently, the Slytherins had planned to release their pent-up aggression during Quidditch just as much as the Gryffindors had. Madam Hooch called the first foul on Mulciber, who was one of Slytherin's Beaters, when he sent a Bludger careening into Parvana while her back was turned. James watched the whole thing happen, his blood boiling, and nearly pulled out his wand to retaliate; only a look from Sirius stopped him. After Mulciber's foul, Peregrine Flint sent the Quaffle through the hoop with ease, scoring the first points of the game.

Gryffindor scored three more times after that in quick succession, and the Slytherins grew furious. Evan Rosier and Adrestia Carrow, two of the Slytherin Chasers, managed to get on either side of Otis Podmore, nearly crushing him and causing him to drop the Quaffle. Sirius retaliated by sending not one but two Bludgers soaring towards Regulus, who had to do an impressively complicated corkscrew twist to avoid them.

"He flies well," commented James as he caught up to Sirius.

Sirius grunted. "Shame he's pursuing a career in the Dark Arts instead of Quidditch, isn't it?" A Bludger whizzed past Sirius, narrowly missing his head. Sirius turned, bat aloft and rage in his eyes.

Mulciber was hovering not twenty feet from them, looking amused. "I don't appreciate people talking badly about my friends, Black."

Sirius looked like he wanted to leap off his broom and strangle Mulciber. "You —"

"Head in the game, Padfoot!" said James, and he sped past them; Peregrine Flint had just tossed the Quaffle his way.

But Sirius couldn't seem to focus. Every swing of his bat sent a Bludger towards either Regulus or Mulciber. Regulus appeared unbothered by this, as he dodged each Bludger easily while scanning for the Snitch. Mulciber, on the other hand, retaliated by focusing his Bludgers exclusively on Parvana.

"SIRIUS!" bellowed James after Slytherin managed to score their first goal. "You realize there are more players on the field than just your brother, right? Where were you just now, Carrow had a clear shot —"

Sirius crossed his arms. "I'm trying to knock some sense into Reg."

"Right," said James, "I'm not asking for much, only that you lay off the family drama long enough to actually defend our Keeper if need be —"

"Sod your Keeper." Sirius made a rude hand gesture and flew off before James could respond.

James groaned in frustration and ran his hands through his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mulciber swing his bat and send a Bludger barreling upwards, towards Parvana —

"Parvana!" cried James.

She twisted away on her broom, but it was too late; the Bludger smacked into her thigh, and she let out a cry of pain.

"Alright, Parvana?" asked James, flying upwards to meet her.

Parvana sat up on her broom and touched her leg gingerly. "Ask me again in five minutes," she said, her expression grim.

"That bastard won't leave you alone. Say the word I'll turn him into a Flobberworm after the match."

"No need," said Parvana. She looked down at Mulciber, who was hovering far below them. He leered at them and mouthed a word that James was certain was offensive. Suddenly, Parvana smiled — the smile that meant she was about to do something incredibly reckless — and tugged her broom downward. James' hair blew back as she passed him in a steep dive.

Otis Podmore tossed James the Quaffle, which he tucked under one arm as he sped towards the hoops on the Slytherin side of the pitch. He dared to glance downward for a moment. He couldn't catch so much as a glimpse of gold, but Parvana had better eyes than he did, she knew what she was doing —

She slammed into Mulciber, and the two of them hurtled towards the earth, a tangle of broomsticks and red and green robes. A strong gust of wind nearly knocked James off his broom; as he righted himself, he saw that the wind had accelerated Parvana and Mulciber's descent. They seemed to be grappling with each other, trying to knock each other off their broom —

Ten feet above the ground, Parvana used her knees to pull up on her broomstick, and they both jerked to a halt. Mulciber was trying to grab her braid, but Parvana caught his arm; it looked like she was trying to push up his sleeve. As she and Mulciber flailed about, she used her legs to flip him upside-down, though her hands were still encircling his wrist.

There was a faint crack, and Mulciber's face twisted in pain, his mouth open. Parvana disentangled herself from Mulciber and pushed away from him. As she soared upward, she raised one hand in the air. She was clutching a fluttering golden ball.

The Snitch.

An enormous roar went up from Gryffindor's side of the stands, and James grinned so widely his cheeks hurt.

" _That's_ how it's done, Parvana!" he said. He joined her on the pitch as Madam Hooch blew her whistle, signalling the end of the match.

Parvana was beaming. "The Snitch flew up his sleeve while he was patting himself on the back about hitting me with that Bludger." She glanced towards the other end of the stadium, where Professor Slughorn was examining Mulciber's hand, which was dangling at an odd angle.

James followed her gaze. "Did you break his arm?"

"His wrist," said Parvana. Her gaze grew distant, as if she was remembering something, and her fingers closed around her wrist. "It was a long time coming."

"You're amazing," said James. "You're the best Seeker ever. You —"

With every word he said, Parvana's smile grew wider and wider, until she threw her arms around him, and she kissed him on the cheek — and her lips were soft, and she smelled like sweat and Quidditch leathers and wet grass —

Somebody whistled loudly, and they broke apart. Sirius strode towards them, clapping appreciatively. Beside him, Peregrine Flint and Marlene were exchanging looks, grinning.

"Putting on a show, are you?" asked Sirius. He gestured towards the stands, which were still full of students. "Should've known you'd be the exhibitionist type, Prongs —"

James gave him a half-hearted shove. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you."

"Everything's a good look on me. And who said I was jealous?" Sirius glanced around at their teammates. "Marlene, fancy a snog?"

Marlene pretended to retch. "No offence, but I don't exactly play for the same team as you, Black, if you get my drift —"

That didn't make any sense. "Er," said James, "what team are you on then, Slytherin?" He laughed a little at his own joke, but nobody else did.

Marlene glared at him, and James came to a sudden realization. "Oh."

"Oh," repeated Marlene with a smirk. She jerked her chin towards Parvana. "Keep celebrating your victory. We'll meet you back in the common room."

Parvana started to blush. "That's not… we can — we'll all go — "

"Nah," said Peregrine. He plucked both James and Parvana's broomsticks out of their hands. "You two go on; we'll take care of these."

James looked at Parvana. Her bravado had faded; she was biting her lip. "I'm a bit sweaty…"

"So am I," said James. "I don't mind if you don't."

Behind him, Sirius and Marlene were pretending to vomit, but he ignored them. He took Parvana by her hand; she was still wearing her Quidditch gloves. "A couple of laps around the pitch, then, and back to the changing room?"

Parvana's fingers curled around his. "That's perfect."

It was.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry that James is dating the wrong person now, but this is a Rite Of Passage for Jily ships so hopefully you are not too surprised haha. Let's see how Lily reacts to this development... :) Until next time!


	22. Uncle Alphard

Severus knew that the Muggle-born Protection Act would become law long before the news appeared in the _Daily Prophet_. A few of the other Followers had family members in the House of Lords, and Evan Rosier had been predicting for weeks that the bill would be narrowly approved.

"My great-uncle's voting 'yes' because he owes the Prewetts a favour," Rosier explained to Severus. "Though privately, of course, his opinions are somewhat different…"

After the House of Lords approved the Act, Professor Slughorn summoned Severus to his office to discuss how the new law applied to Tobias, his Muggle father. Only two other Slytherins attended the meeting. One, a fourth year with curly blonde hair, blushed as she admitted that her second cousin once removed had married a Muggle. The other student, a gangly seventh year, had a sister-in-law whose grandfather was Muggle-born. Both students spoke in hushed tones about their relatives. When they finished, they looked at Severus expectantly, waiting for him to reveal the non-magical blood in his family.

Severus said nothing. His last name gave his blood status away. Let them wonder exactly how much Muggle blood ran through his veins.

The meeting was relatively painless, and Severus spent the majority of the time thinking of potential annotations to his Potions book. Professor Slughorn let him leave with little fuss after he promised to look at the pamphlets that had been pressed into his hands.

On his way back to the common room, Severus conjured a little green fire in his hand and burned the pamphlets. Tobias had survived perfectly well for the past sixteen years. He didn't need Severus' help to live through a few more.

"What'd Sluggy have to say?" jeered Mulciber as Severus rejoined the Followers, who were lounging by the hearth. "Did he offer you _safe houses_ for your extended Muggle family?"

Severus didn't respond. Regulus, it appeared, had finally left his dormitory and was sitting at one end of the couch, sketching in his journal. As Severus sat beside him, Regulus dipped his head a little in acknowledgement. Severus nodded back and opened his Potions textbook.

"Are you deaf, Snape?" asked Mulciber loudly.

Rosier was lying on his stomach on the carpet and playing with a set of Divination cards. "Really, Augustus?"

"It's just a question," said Mulciber. He trained his small blue eyes on Severus, who was trying very hard to annotate the chapter on Gopalott's Third Law. "How much mud runs through your veins, Snape? Are you half-mud? Three-quarters?"

Rosier shrugged. "Does it matter? Sev's a Follower like the rest of us, isn't he?" He sat up and pulled a different set of cards out of his pocket, beginning to shuffle. "Who fancies a game of Exploding Snap?"

Mulciber seemed determined not to be distracted. "He's at _least_ a half-blood. Who knows how many Muggle relatives he's got? I bet there's less than a quarter of magical blood running through those dirty veins of his —"

Severus' quill stilled. "Astonishing," he said.

Regulus glanced up from his journal. "Severus. Don't —"

"It's simply remarkable. That a talentless imbecile who skates by on the merits of his well-connected father would think himself capable of winning a verbal joust. It's as if he has no insight at all."

Mulciber's face had gone nearly purple. "You _filthy —_ "

Severus pulled his wand out. " _Langlock_."

Mulciber began to choke on his own tongue. The other Followers exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"Sev," said Avery weakly. "Put him right. He's our _mentor_."

"His father's money is our mentor," said Severus. He kept his wand trained on Mulciber, who was making strangled honking sounds. The eyes of the entire common room were on them now, and Severus decided it was time to clarify a few things before speculation about his blood status grew out of control. It was bad enough to have 'Snape' for a last name; he couldn't afford for people to realize that his father was a Muggle.

"For the record," said Severus. Each of his words was as sharp as a knife. "No Death Eater alive despises my Muggle heritage more than I."

The room fell silent as Mulciber stopped fighting against the Tongue-Tying curse. A few prefects had half-risen from tables, looking concerned.

"If anyone else would like to comment on my blood status," said Severus, "I invite them to come forward, and I will do them worse than a schoolyard hex." He lifted his wand and removed the spell from Mulciber. Then he stormed down the stairs to the sixth years' dormitory, clutching his Potions book his grip.

Mulciber made no further remarks about Severus' family after that, and Severus did his utmost not to give Mulciber the opportunity. He stopped spending time with the other Followers outside of the required activities, and at night he always drew the curtains around his four-poster bed, casting a few protection charms just to be safe. During his free periods, he retreated to the library, a place he was certain Mulciber would never willingly set foot.

Severus had always considered himself a bit of a loner, but after a week of library trips he realized that wasn't exactly true; during his early years at Hogwarts, he had Lily to spend time with, and after Lily, he'd had Bella and the Intents. This was the first time nobody bothered coming after him when he stalked off.

He hated the solitude. He'd thought Regulus, at least, would have gone after him — it was the least he could do, after all the support Severus had shown him — but even the youngest scion to the Blacks was keeping his distance, it seemed. He was probably too busy hiding from his problems in his dormitory to bother checking on Severus.

After a week of the other Followers pointedly ignoring Severus' snit, he began to feel smug, instead of wounded. He'd suspected all along that their acceptance of him had been a front, and this was proof.

He found a bookcase in the library that had a false back leading to a hidden room the size of a broom closet. The room smelled musty and was completely empty except for a strange mirror which leaned against one wall and seemed to reflect his thoughts. Severus set up his cauldron in the middle of the hidden room and began to alternate between experimenting with potions and using the mirror to practice Occlumency.

At first, the mirror showed him what he could only describe as wish-fulfilment fantasies — sometimes in the form of the Dark Lord, shrouded in black, bestowing Severus with great power while Mulciber cowered in the background. Other times, he was arm-in-arm with Lily, strolling through what appeared to be the French countryside, far from the war. The images the mirror showed, though all variations on the same theme, were never boring or repetitive; one memorable evening, he spent hours watching himself play Quidditch for England, eventually winning the World Cup while a jealous James Potter and Sirius Black fumed from the stands.

It took Severus weeks to mount any sort of Occlumency defence against these images, so powerful was the longing they produced in him. At last, he managed to stump the mirror for a full minute. Only his reflection gazed back at him from the glass. Triumphantly — foolishly — Severus reached out with his mind towards the mirror, wondering what sort of object it was —

He woke up on the floor a full day later, sweating and feverish, as if he had the flu. That was the last time he attempted to use Legilimency on the mirror.

Regulus caught up with him one day as he was leaving the library. "Severus," said Regulus. "How are you?"

"Never better," said Severus dryly. "And yourself?"

"Great," said Regulus, who looked anything but. He glanced furtively around the corridor, which was mostly deserted, save for a pair of gossiping Ravenclaws. "Look, you took off after the last ritual, so you didn't hear — there was an announcement —"

 _Finally_. Severus' heart leapt. "Mulciber's stepping down, then? Buckled under the pressure of being mentor, did he?"

"What?" said Regulus. "No — not at all, in fact."

"Ah," said Severus. He began to consider that he was spending entirely too much time with only a wish-fulfilment mirror for company.

"The announcement came from my cousin," said Regulus. "Bella."

"Ah," said Severus, hoping this second 'ah' sounded significantly more intelligent than the first.

"She's been sending me hints for ages through owl post, but she finally decided to tell everyone. She Floo-called us, using the fireplace in — in Dungeon You-Know-Which. She couldn't give many details, but she said — the Dark Lord is going to retaliate. Because the Muggle-born Protection Act passed. And he wants to target more students."

If Severus hadn't been practising his Occlumency so regularly, he might have thought of Lily. "A retaliation? Here at Hogwarts?"

"That's what it sounded like," said Regulus.

"But we've already taken care of Sally Dearborn." Though he still had no idea how. "If we go around vanishing all the blood traitors from school we'll be caught and expelled. So what does she want from us?"

"She didn't say exactly," admitted Regulus. "We won't be the ones carrying out the Dark Lord's plan, though. It'll come from higher up. You know — from Primaries, I expect."

"Nonsense," said Severus. He stalked purposefully through the corridor, his oversized robes billowing behind him. "Not even the Dark Lord himself can get into the school as long as Dumbledore's here."

Regulus followed him unhurriedly. "What makes you say that?"

"Lucius recruited us," said Severus, as plainly as if he were explaining something to a child. "What possible interest could the Death Eaters have in a handful of underage students if they were capable of infiltrating the school themselves?"

"The unmonitored Floo —"

"— must have some sort of limitation we don't know about," said Severus as they descended the spiral staircase to the first floor. "Otherwise the Death Eaters would have no use for us. But we are valued, and it is for our connection to the school. Lucius said it himself, during our first meeting — we are to be the Dark Lord's eyes and ears at Hogwarts."

Regulus looked unconvinced. "Bella seemed fairly certain…"

"She has been wrong before," said Severus. "Your family is not known for its mental stability."

"I thought you didn't want people to make assumptions about families."

That was fair, and Severus knew it. "Apologies."

Regulus shrugged. "Bella said we're not to get involved when it happens. The Dark Lord needs us to be obviously innocent. Lest we…" He made finger quotes in the air. "Suffer his displeasure."

 _That_ was interesting. Severus nodded. "I appreciate the information."

"Anytime," said Regulus. They came to a stop on the first floor landing, and Regulus hesitated.

"I don't need accompaniment to my lessons, Regulus," said Severus.

"I wasn't planning on it," replied Regulus cooly. "I only wanted to say — you've got friends in Slytherin. You know that, right?"

Severus' lips curled. "Name three."

"Myself," said Regulus. "Plus Edmund Avery and Evan Rosier. They really do think you're alright."

"I'm touched," said Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you mean to say you're _worried_ about me, Regulus?"

Regulus nearly smiled. Severus was glad he didn't. Regulus looked too much like Sirius when he was happy. "I don't know if you've noticed," said Regulus, "but worrying is something I'm exceptionally good at. So, yes. I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Your concern is misplaced," said Severus. "I'm doing excellent."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around at the moment, isn't there?" said Regulus. "So many of us are just doing _fantastic._ "

For an instant, Severus softened. Regulus might be indecisive and neurotic, but he was only trying to survive. Just like Severus. Just like — _don't think about her_ — so many students, Muggle-born and otherwise.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" asked Severus. "Being caught in a war that's been brewing for decades. Had we been born five years earlier, or later, we might have been able to actually enjoy our adolescence."

"It is a shame," agreed Regulus. "I should write to the Dark Lord about it… send him a strongly worded letter. He ought to listen — I'm heir to the House of Black, you know."

That was almost funny. "Am I living in an alternate reality?" asked Severus. "When did you grow a sense of humour?"

Regulus smiled. Severus hated it. "I'm trying not to care so much about things I can't control. There's no point." He shrugged. "Even if we make it out of Hogwarts alive, we're all bound to die in the war anyway."

He gave a little wave as he walked off, leaving Severus at the base of the stairs.

* * *

The last weekend in November arrived more quickly than Sirius had expected. He hadn't been dreading it, or even keeping particular tabs on the passage of time, but he was startled nonetheless to wake up Saturday morning and realize that he would be meeting his uncle in Hogsmeade that afternoon.

Remus was watching him closely at breakfast. "Are you _nervous_?"

Sirius scoffed. "You're projecting. I've never been nervous in my life."

"You're not eating," said Peter around a mouthful of sausage. He gestured with a fork towards Sirius' plate.

"That's because the toast doesn't taste right," said Sirius. "Not because I'm nervous."

"You know," said Remus from behind the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet_ , "sometimes our feelings can make food taste funny."

"I don't have feelings," said Sirius. "I'm fine. Maybe I'm just not hungry because my so-called mates are sitting around staring at me."

"I wasn't staring at you," said James, who hadn't been; he'd been gazing down the table at Parvana, mouth slightly ajar.

Sirius waved his knife towards where Parvana was sitting. "Do us all a favour and ask her to 'practise Quidditch manoeuvres' with you again, why don't you? At least then we won't have to put up with you _mooning_ —"

"I thought I was the moony one," said Remus, and they all groaned. Peter flicked a bit of egg at Remus, which bounced off his forehead.

Sirius got up from the table. "You lot are impossible. I'm leaving."

"But we're not allowed to go to Hogsmeade for another hour," said Peter. "Are you sure you're not sneaking off to write your uncle and tell him not to come?"

Sirius raised his eyes towards the heavy clouds drifting slowly across the enchanted ceiling. "How many secret passages to Hogsmeade have we found, twelve? Some of us don't like to be late, Pete."

Sirius didn't actually bother to take one of the hidden tunnels to Hogsmeade. It had snowed overnight for the first time all term, and he wanted to find out if snow was more fun as a dog. He transformed behind one of the greenhouses, then raced to Hagrid's hut to roll in the snowdrifts that had gathered over the vegetable patch. After giving himself a good shake to be rid of the ice crystals matting his fur, he set off for the Forbidden Forest, hoping to spot a yeti shambling through the trees.

He didn't find a yeti, but he did manage to disturb a couple of ice pixies slumbering in a bush. Their glass-like wings beat wildly as they pursued him through the forest, though he eventually managed to lose them by transforming back into a human. They zoomed right past him, chittering angrily, and he made a rude hand gesture at their backs.

It was a short walk to the train tracks that ran along the outskirts of Hogsmeade, so Sirius adjusted his scarf and tamped down the snow with his boots as loudly as he could while he walked, trying to drown out his thoughts. He should never have written to Uncle Alphard. Not even finding out if Andromeda was alright was worth getting tangled up with his family again. Besides, what would Andromeda say if she knew he was sticking his neck out like this for her? Nothing kind, he was sure. Her tongue was as sharp as his mother's.

The snow crunched under Sirius' boots. What if Uncle Alphard expected Sirius to thank him for Obliviating his parents? What if he thought Sirius owed him a favour?

 _I owe him nothing_ , decided Sirius. _I wasn't the one who asked him to Obliviate them. He can speak to Reg if he wants a favor._

Sirius reached Hogsmeade Station and turned on to Main Street, dragging his feet. As reluctant as he was, the Three Broomsticks drew him forward like a magnet, looking deceptively inviting. Soft golden light poured from its frosted windows, and there was a Christmas wreath on the door. Inside, silver and gold baubles were strung along the walls, and Christmas trees stood in the corners, their tinseled boughs grazing the floor.

The pub was filled near to bursting with students enjoying the last Hogsmeade weekend before the Christmas holidays, and Sirius had to elbow his way through a group of Hufflepuffs who were taking up entirely too much space. He ignored their protests as he scanned the crowded pub. At last, he spotted his Uncle Alphard, who was sitting alone in a corner booth.

Sirius pushed past another gaggle of students and slid into the seat across from him. "Uncle Alphard. Hi."

The deep lines around Uncle Alphard's eyes crinkled as he smiled benevolently at Sirius. His long black hair, streaked with grey at the temples, was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and even his neatly trimmed beard was speckled with grey. He looked older than Sirius remembered.

"Sirius," said Uncle Alphard, inclining his head. "It's good to see you again."

Sirius honestly couldn't say the same, so he remained silent.

Uncle Alphard arched his thick eyebrows, waiting for a response, but Sirius said nothing. This didn't seem to bother Uncle Alphard; on the contrary, he pulled out a weathered-looking wand and began to polish it with a rag. "I've ordered us Butterbeers," he said, examining his wand. "You like Butterbeer, I assume?"

Sirius grunted. Uncle Alphard, unperturbed, continued to polish his wand while humming a tune under his breath. After a few minutes, Madam Rosmerta bustled over to the booth and placed the Butterbeers in front of them.

"'Ta, Rosmerta," said Uncle Alphard. He winked at her, and she blushed a little before disappearing behind the bar. Uncle Alphard raised his mug towards Sirius as if making a toast and took a sip. He closed his eyes and made an appreciative noise.

"Excellent, as always. Now, let's get to business, shall we?" He picked his weathered wand up off the table and cast several privacy charms around their booth.

Sirius' ears popped as the privacy charms dampened the air around them. "Why do we need —"

"Family secrets, my boy," replied Uncle Alphard. Appearing satisfied with his spellwork, he set his wand on the table and leaned towards Sirius. "Now. I realize you are not grateful that I have modified your parents' memories."

Well. At least Sirius didn't have to spell that out for him. He crossed his arms. "So what?"

"Regardless of your feelings towards the situation, I removed those memories for your benefit."

Sirius snorted. "Some benefit. I think your Obliviation might've addled their minds."

"Pish-posh," said Uncle Alphard. "I know my trade. Your parents' instability is their own doing."

"I'm not so sure," said Sirius. "You're certain you didn't make them forget that I'm a Gryffindor and a disgrace to the family name?"

"Of course not. Obliviation has limitations, you know."

Sirius took a sip of Butterbeer, watching Uncle Alphard closely. He seemed to be telling the truth. But if Uncle Alphard hadn't modified his parent's memories, then why…

"My parents are sending me love letters now, did you know that? Do you have anything to do with that?"

"Your parents' decisions are their own," said Uncle Alphard. "Though I will admit I had heard they are trying a new tactic with you."

"Yeah, and it's bonkers," said Sirius.

Uncle Alphard chuckled. "Be that as it may, they have their reasons for writing to you." and pulled a newspaper clipping from an inner coat pocket. He glanced around furtively to make sure nobody was watching, then placed the clipping on the table. "This should clarify some things."

Sirius examined the newspaper clipping. One side contained a black-and-white advertisement of a square contraption with a long hose attached. That thing was called a hoover, wasn't it? He'd seen something similar in his Muggle Studies textbook. What was Uncle Alphard doing with a clipping from a Muggle newspaper? Sirius flipped it over, and his eyes widened. This side had been cut from the wedding announcements, and there were only a few lines of text.

 **Mr E. Tonks and Miss A. Black**

 _The marriage took place on September 12, 1977, in Plymouth, between Edward, son of Mr and Mrs Robert Tonks, and Andromeda, daughter of Mr and Mrs Cygnus Black._

There was no accompanying picture. "Andromeda," said Sirius once he had finished reading. He looked at Uncle Alphard. "She got married? To a Muggle? That last name, it isn't..."

"Edward Tonks is Muggle-born."

"Just as bad."

Uncle Alphard nodded gravely. "The situation is worse than you think."

"How could it possibly be worse?"

"She's pregnant. Pretty far along, in fact."

Sirius groaned and buried his head in his hands. "Of _course_ she is." He'd always thought Andromeda had been the sensible one, but if she'd gotten herself pregnant out of wedlock — and with a Muggle-born, no less… He tossed the newspaper clipping at Uncle Alphard without looking up. "She's alright, though? Uncle Cygnus, when he found out, did he hurt her, or…?"

"She's safe for the time being, but it was a narrow thing," said Uncle Alphard.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You wouldn't like the answer."

Sirius dropped his hands from his face and took several large gulps of Butterbeer. "I'm going to need something stronger than this."

Uncle Alphard didn't smile. "You understand now why I Obliviated your parents, last summer?"

"So they wouldn't try to kill me, too?"

"More or less," said Uncle Alphard. "I predicted — correctly, it seems — that when Andromeda's desertion came to light, your parents would feel inclined to give you one last chance to be part of the family."

"They're only giving me 'one last chance' because they've forgotten I've already pulled an Andromeda."

Uncle Alphard lifted a shoulder. "And?"

Sirius remembered that Uncle Alphard had been a Slytherin. "Right. It doesn't matter because the ends justify the means and all that. I forgot that's how you people think."

Uncle Alphard's lips, almost hidden under his salt-and-pepper beard, curled into a smile. "Exactly."

"I still don't know why you bothered," said Sirius. "I don't care about my parents' second chances. I want nothing to do with them. _Nothing_. And I'm of age, so legally, I can leave. I've already left, in fact."

"You are of age," agreed Uncle Alphard. "And you are the heir to the Blacks. If you would only return to Grimmauld Place to accept your responsibilities as firstborn —"

"No," said Sirius loudly, but Uncle Alphard spoke over him.

" _Think_ , Sirius! Think of all that that could be yours. Not only Grimmauld Place, but our other family properties, the vaults at Gringotts, your father's trove of artefacts…"

"Bunch of shoddy Dark objects that can kill you in about ten different ways," said Sirius. "I'll pass, thanks."

Uncle Alphard looked pained. "You're being short-sighted. Think of the good you could do with your parent's fortune in your hands."

As he spoke, everything began to make sense, and Sirius groaned. "You just want my parents' money, don't you? Is that why you Obliviated them, so you could collect a _favour_ from the heir to the House of Black…"

"It is more than a favour!" Uncle Alphard pounded a fist on the table. "If you would reconcile with your parents — they're not expecting much, just for you to do the bare minimum around the Black estate — the House of Black would be yours within a decade, and we could —"

" _No_ ," said Sirius. "I wouldn't go back to them, even for a year. Even for a month. I'd rather —"

Uncle Alphard's eyes were dark. "If you knew who needed that money, you would not be so flippant."

"Tell me, then." Sirius leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm all ears."

Uncle Alphard let out a strained sigh. "You have heard of the Dark Lord, I assume?"

"That nutter my parents have been worshipping?" asked Sirius. "The Muggle-hating one? Yeah, I know of him. So what?"

"The situation outside of your precious castle is… perilous. A darkness is spreading across Wizarding Britain." Uncle Alphard glanced around the pub before leaning closer. His fingers curled around his wand. "Some people — Dumbledore included, mind — can tell that things are going to get worse before they get better. There is — a group being formed to oppose this darkness. These are the people who need support."

"Oh," said Sirius. "So you want me to fund Dumbledore and his secret club. Wasn't aware he was that hard up, he looks pretty well off in the Great Hall during meals —"

"Not just money," said Uncle Alphard. There was a hunger in his grey eyes. "Safehouses. Magical secrets, guarded by our family for generations... These could be the key to giving our side the advantage —"

"No," said Sirius. "I won't. I've waited seventeen years to be free of my parents. I'm not about to give that up just so your band of revolutionaries can get their grubby paws on some extra Galleons."

"But you _won't_ have to wait much longer to be free of them!" Uncle Alphard banged his wand on the table when making his point, and red sparks shot into the air. "Your parents are not going to live forever. There is a war brewing, and casualties are increasing. Besides, you have memorized our family tree. You know that us Blacks are not blessed with long lifespans. I give your parents ten years more to live, at most."

Ten years was close enough to forever for Sirius's liking. Uncle Alphard shook his head at the look on Sirius' face. "If you don't reconcile with your parents, Regulus will inherit everything — our fortune, property, possessions — in a mere handful of years."

"And I'm sure he'd put it all to good use," said Sirius. "Invest it, or something. He's sensible."

"Regulus Black is being courted by Death Eaters," growled Uncle Alphard. " _That's_ where the money would go."

"I don't care," said Sirius. "I won't do what you want. I'm not going back to Grimmauld Place."

"Then you are a fool."

Sirius scoffed. "Oh, please. Do you have _any_ idea what my life at Grimmauld Place has been like? You're as twisted as the rest of them, demanding that your seventeen-year-old nephew return to that hellhole just so you can get your hands on the family gold —"

"Sirius," said Uncle Alphard."We are family. I care for you —"

"You care about what I can do for you." Sirius' head was starting to hurt. This was why he didn't like dealing with his family. Even the best of them were terrible. "I'm going back to the castle," he announced, standing up. He flicked a few Sickles onto the table. "Nice chat, Uncle Alphard. Best of luck with the renegades. "

* * *

Lily didn't go to Hogsmeade with Marlene and Mary; instead, she headed straight for the library. Madam Pince had scrutinized Lily from head to toe, surely suspicious that any student would rather be in the library than in Hogsmeade, but even she couldn't turn up her nose at a permission slip from Professor McGonagall. That was how Lily had ended up hunched at a small table in the very back of the Restricted Section, poring over a black leather tome that smelled of blood and was entitled _Hunting Nightmares: How to Find and Capture Dark and Dangerous Beasts._

After a few minutes, she sighed and shut the book, which released a puff of dust from between its pages. _Hunting Nightmares_ was excellent at describing were-creature dissections in excruciating detail, but it was no help in locating Sally Dearborn. She'd made a note of an obscure tracking spell listed in the appendix, but seeing as Sally wasn't a Dark or dangerous creature, she wasn't sure the spell would even work.

She returned Hunting Nightmares to its shelf and tried to ignore Madam Pince's piercing glare as she left the library. The corridors of the castle were nearly deserted, and Lily slipped into the empty Gryffindor common room with an idea percolating in her mind.

She took the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories, but instead of entering her own dormitory, she snuck carefully to the top of the staircase, where the seventh-year girls slept.

" _Homenum revelio_ ," she whispered, pointing her wand at the door. Nothing happened.

Lily relaxed a little. " _Alohomora_."

The door swung open, and Lily crept inside. The dormitory was significantly larger than her own; nine beds lined the circular room. Her breath caught when she saw the fourth bed from the entrance. The sheets were perfectly taught, as if it hadn't been slept in for some time, and the bedside table was conspicuously empty. Although it looked like a hotel bed, waiting for its next occupant, at one point it must have belonged to Sally.

 _It's still Sally's_ , Lily corrected herself. _Because she's not dead. She can't be._

The trunk at the foot of the bed had been left unlatched and was empty as well. Sally's father must have come to collect her things. When had that happened? Lily was certain she would have noticed if Caradoc Dearborn had been walking around Gryffindor tower. The man had been in the _Prophet_ nonstop; he was practically a celebrity.

Lily dropped to her knees at the side of the bed and wordlessly lit the tip of her wand. She peered under the bed, hoping the house-elves had missed a spot in their cleaning.

She didn't find what she was looking for under the bed, but her search of the chest of drawers across the room was more successful. Something gleamed as she passed her wand across the bottommost drawer, and her heart leapt.

" _Accio_ ," she whispered. A single, golden hair zoomed into her hand. It wasn't werewolf fur — which the author of _Hunting Nightmares_ had recommended most highly for the spell she had copied — but it would have to do.

Lily clutched the hair in her fist and scanned the room to make sure nothing was out of place. Then she raced down the stairs and pushed open the room to her own dormitory. When she saw who was inside, she skidded to a halt.

James Potter and Parvana were entangled in the centre of the room, their backs to the door. Lily's first thought was that they were engaged in an activity which ought to be kept very private. Upon further inspection, though, it appeared that Parvana was in the middle of some sort of complicated stretching exercise. James Potter was practically draped on top of her, and he seemed to be attempting to extend her arm past its natural range of motion.

The door slammed shut of its own accord behind Lily. Parvana and James sprang apart, noticing her for the first time.

"Er," said Lily. She still wasn't confident that what she had just seen were exercises.

Parvana's face was scarlet. "Oh, Lily! Hi. We were, just, erm…"

"Stretching," said James, who didn't seem embarrassed in the least.

Lily blinked. "How did you even get in here? I thought — boys aren't allowed in the girls' dormitories, the staircase —"

"Oh, there's a trick to those stairs," said James. "I only had to —" He broke off as Parvana made a movement which caught his attention. He leaned forward and helped Parvana extend her arm so far it seemed about to pop out of her shoulder joint.

"You see," said James over his shoulder to Lily, with the air of having explained this before, "Parv's arms are a quarter-inch shorter than your average Seeker's, which means she needs to improve her range of motion if she's going to stand a chance in the professional leagues. I'm teaching her these exercises my aunt used to do, it's called ashtanga. Wanna learn?"

Those stretching exercises seemed awfully intimate if you asked Lily. "Erm, no thanks," she said. It was so hot all of a sudden. Wasn't it supposed to be snowing outside? "Sorry, I didn't realize — I'll just be getting on, then…"

"We were just about to leave," said Parvana. "We need to go to Hogsmeade, James has ordered us a book —" She sat up straight and adjusted her robes. Lily frowned. Were stretching exercises _supposed_ to make your robes that rumpled?

"Oh, er, no need to leave," said Lily. "I was just going to — I'll just go study in the toilet, I guess —" God, what was she even saying?

"You're going to study," repeated James. "In the _loo._ "

Well, she certainly didn't need to put up with that tone from him. "I've got my period," snapped Lily, and James' eyes widened in horror. Good. He ought to be embarrassed about _something_. "So yes, I'll be in the _loo_ if you need me. Which I'm assuming you won't."

She fled into the toilet before James could respond, locking the door behind her. She sank to the floor slowly and pressed her hands to her cheeks, which felt like they were on fire. James and Parvana? When had _that_ happened? It was true that James hadn't been bothering her as much this year, but she had assumed that was because he was maturing. Clearly, she had missed something.

Lily slapped her cheeks a little, trying to get a handle on herself. It didn't matter. They made a cute couple. And it wasn't like _she_ had feelings for him, anyway. She was just used to the old joke about Potter being in love with Evans. Well, if he was doing _stretching exercises_ with Parvana, he had clearly outgrown that childish infatuation. Which was a good thing, because he had been bloody annoying.

So everything was fine, really.

Lily brought her hand away from her face and uncurled her fingers, relieved to see the blonde strand of hair still curled in her palm. She set the hair carefully on the floor beside her and pulled her notes on _Hunting Nightmares_ out of her bag. She began to practise the wand movements of the tracking spell while trying desperately not to listen to whatever was going on in the dormitory, which involved quite a lot of whispering and the occasional giggle. It was none of her business. And besides, she had work to do.

It took her the better part of an hour to get the spell working, partly because of its complexity, and partly because she kept getting distracted by the damned _giggles_ coming from behind the door. Just as she was about to give up on the spell as a lost cause, she heard footsteps in the dormitory, followed by the slam of a door.

Lily listened for a moment. The footsteps were descending the staircase, and the dormitory was silent. Parvana and James had finally left, then. She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned her focus back to the spell, which required not only difficult wand movements but also precise gestures from her free hand.

After another five minutes, she completed the spell, and the strand of hair on the floor began to glow. Lily tried to calm her pounding heart. _It might not work,_ she reminded herself. _It isn't werewolf fur, after all._ She picked up the hair and placed it in the palm of her hand. It spun around a couple of times before coming to a stop, quivering like the needle of a compass.

Lily moved her hand, and the hair spun slightly. Excitement thrummed through her like electricity. It really was like a compass! It seemed to be pointing away from the dormitory.

Hardly believing her luck, Lily scrambled out of the toilet and down the stairs. She followed her makeshift compass out of Gryffindor tower and down many flights of stairs until she was crossing the Entrance Hall and descending into the dungeons.

The dungeons of Hogwarts were huge and labyrinthine, and Lily was soon following the compass through areas she'd never seen before. The glowing hair led her through a series of ever-narrowing corridors, and the air grew strangely damp. After ten minutes of wandering, she was feeling increasingly lost, and a voice in the back of Lily's mind wondered if she'd be able to find her way out of the dungeons.

Suddenly, the hair spun sharply to the left. Lily followed its lead and stepped into a dark corridor with a low ceiling. The air was heavy with moisture, and dark green moss crept up the stone walls. Carved snakes curled around the braziers on the walls, and as Lily entered the corridor, the brazier flared brightly. The flickering firelight revealed a series of statues lining the corridor, all carved from white marble, and at the end of the corridor hung a large painting.

Lily slowed her pace, observing the statues as she walked past. They had been carved to depict the same man, although each statue held a different pose. Some wore long robes, as if the man had been a mage or a scholar, while others donned armour and posed with weapons. The painting at the end of the hall was a portrait of the man, who had long, straight blonde hair, unnervingly pale skin, and a sour face. Lily thought his expression made him look a bit like Severus. This man could do with a bit of sunlight, as well.

As she examined one of the statues, her hand began to burn, and she looked down. The hair lay lifeless in her palm, its glow faded. Lily frowned. She hadn't expected the spell to last for such a short amount of time. Unless…

An unpleasant thought twisted Lily's stomach. She had supposed the spell would lead her to Sally Dearborn, but she was clearly not here. Perhaps… could Sally have died here? Was that why the compass had led her halfway down the corridor and no further?

 _No_. Lily shook her head. She refused to believe it. This corridor was so strange, so deliberately tucked away… maybe there was a hidden passageway behind the painting, or under one of the statues.

She glanced at the painting, which was watching her with that pinched expression it had. Maybe she could get some information out of it. As she approached the painting, she noticed the golden plaque affixed beneath its frame. _Portrait of a Young Salazar_ , read the plaque, and Lily's heart sank. What were the odds that a young Salazar Slytherin would help her find a missing half-blood student?

"Excuse me," she said as politely as she could.

The portrait, which had been alternating between sneering at her and working on what appeared to be a star chart, narrowed its eyes.

"Yes?"

Lily gulped. There was more good breeding in that single word than she had in her entire body. "It's just — er. You haven't seen a Gryffindor girl wandering around here, have you? Shorter than me, plaited blonde hair, kind of intimidating-looking?"

The young Salazar looked down his nose at her. "I cannot say that I have."

Too late, Lily remembered that Gryffindor was probably a sore subject with this painting. She decided to try a different approach. "What about Slytherin students, how often do they come round this corridor?"

Salazar's eyes seemed to pierce right through her. He lifted his chin imperiously. "I must say, I do not recognize your features. Red hair, but too dark to be a Weasley, and no freckles… Descendant of the Abbotts, are you?"

"Erm," said Lily, "Yes, absolutely, I'm an Abbott. I'm Lily… Abbott. It's a pleasure." She considered curtsying but decided against it.

The young Salazar's eyes narrowed. "The pleasure is all mine," he drawled, sounding anything but pleased.

Lily's heart sank. _This is a lost cause_ , she thought. Even if there was some sort of secret to this corridor, there was no way the painting would reveal anything to her now. "Thanks, anyway. I'll just be off, then… "

Young Salazar wasn't listening, having already gone back to his star chart, and Lily trailed off. Maybe she could come back another time when the painting was in a better mood. She sighed and glanced at the hair, which she was still holding like a compass. Some breakthrough this had been. And now she was lost in the dungeons.

"Lily?" said a voice.

She startled, shoving the hair into her pocket. _For the love of —_

"Hi, Regulus," she said, trying to sound casual, as if she wandered around alone in the dungeons all the time.

He was standing in the middle of the corridor, wearing a heavy wool cape and carrying a bulging bag from Honeydukes in one hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Patrols," said Lily immediately.

Regulus arched a single eyebrow. "In the dungeons?"

"Yeah."

"Let me rephrase that," said Regulus. "In _this part_ of the dungeons?"

Lily winced. "I got lost." Technically true.

"Clearly," said Regulus. "Why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"

Lily raised her chin. "I could ask you the same question."

Regulus' eyebrow raised even further — something she hadn't thought possible — and he gestured at the Honeydukes bag. "I've already been."

"Ah," said Lily. "Right."

Regulus tucked the Honeydukes bag under his arm. "Fancy a guide out of here?"

"Please," said Lily, smiling a bit.

Regulus didn't return her smile as he fell into step beside her. "You shouldn't have come down here alone. To the Salazar Corridor? What were you thinking?"

"The Salazar Corridor? It's got a name, then?"

"Obviously," said Regulus. "A name and about a hundred curses on every statue in it. You're lucky you still have both legs if you were antagonizing that portrait —"

"I wasn't antagonizing the portrait. And I can take care of myself."

"No," said Regulus. "You can't."

"I can, actually," she snapped.

He glanced at her. His expression was far too weary for someone carrying a bag of sweets from Honeydukes. "Be sensible, Lily. You know there are sympathizers of the Dark Lord in Slytherin, and the dungeons are crawling with curses and traps. You — that is, with your heritage — it's _dangerous_ to come traipsing around here. You could be seriously hurt."

Lily lifted her chin defiantly. "There might be some bad apples in Slytherin, but I'm not about to go walking around the castle afraid. We've got Dumbledore, and McGonagall — I mean, we're at Hogwarts, aren't we? We're _safe_."

Regulus shook his head. "You're wrong. We're not."

"Just because Sally —"

"This isn't about Sally," said Regulus sharply. "Wherever she is, she's safer than you are now. I guarantee it. "

"Why do you say that? What do you mean, she's —"

"Forget Sally," said Regulus harshly. "She's irrelevant. I'm trying to tell you —"

" _Irrelevant_? I don't believe you. You —"

"The Death Eaters are planning something, alright?" snapped Regulus.

Lily fell silent, her eyes wide. " _What_?"

Regulus was staring at her intently, breathing hard. "It's a — a rumour going around my House. They're planning something to do with Hogwarts. Something bad."

Lily felt like she had been slapped. "Is that what you meant before, at Sirius' birthday? When you said you'd had a letter from your cousin?"

Regulus nodded. "I didn't know the details then. But there's been hints — rumours — whatever they're planning, it's big."

"That's impossible. The Death Eaters can't get into Hogwarts."

"They can," said Regulus. "I don't know how, but if Bella says they can, then it's possible."

"But there's barely two weeks left until the Christmas holidays. Surely if they were going to do something, they'd have already done it."

"Come on, Lily," said Regulus. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know," said Lily. She kept her gaze on the stone walls surrounding them, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Have you told anyone?"

Regulus snorted. "Like who? Slughorn?"

"Like Dumbledore!"

Regulus actually laughed at that, the sound cold and mirthless. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're joking."

"I'm not," said Lily. "You have to tell him. He could put a stop to it —"

"Do you know what the people in my House would do to me if they found out I went running to Dumbledore?"

"Nothing would happen to you," said Lily. "Dumbledore would protect you."

"Like he protected Sally Dearborn?"

"That… " said Lily. "That was — he would…"

Regulus' grey eyes were hard as flint. "You and I both know that Sally was attacked long before she disappeared." He pressed a hand to his stomach involuntarily. "Dumbledore had two months to prevent that from happening again. And did he?"

God. She hated that he had a point. "I don't know," said Lily. "I suppose — I'm sure there are things behind the scenes we're not privy to…"

"There wasn't even a notice in the paper," said Regulus scathingly. "No mention that a student had gone missing from the safest bastion in magical Britain. Who do you think had a hand in suppressing that information?"

"I don't know —"

"There's a lot you don't know," said Regulus. "Listen. I'm a Black. My childhood education was different from yours. I learned about the major players in the wizarding world. Dumbledore — he's not one to get bogged down in the details. He only cares about the big picture. What's the death of one student to him, so long as the Muggle-born Protection Act gets passed?"

"You're wrong about Dumbledore," said Lily, but she was uncertain. It was true that no news of Sally's disappearance had ever reached the _Daily Prophet_. She'd never given it much thought.

"I'm not," said Regulus. "That's just the way he thinks. Read any book on his involvement in the Great Wizarding War and you'll see. What's one life lost, if a hundred more are saved? He'd sacrifice me — or you, or Sally — without a second thought if it meant advancing his agenda. I have nothing to gain from going to him. Nothing."

Lily bit her lip. "I've never heard anybody talk about Dumbledore like that."

"That's because you're not in Slytherin," said Regulus. "We're rather more objective than you Gryffindors." He smirked at her sceptical expression. "Ask my brother what Dumbledore's like if you don't believe me. He'll tell you the same."

"Fine," said Lily, crossing her arms. "I will."

A corner of Regulus' lip turned upwards. "Good. Let me know what he says." They rounded the corner to the corridor which led to the Entrance Hall. "I trust you can find your way back from here?"

"Yeah," said Lily. "Thanks." She turned to say good-bye, but Regulus was already walking away from her, one hand raised in farewell.


	23. Morsmordre

**A/N:** Sorry it took me so long to update! September was insanely busy, glad that's over now :) Thanks for sticking with!

Small content warning on this chapter for mentions of suicide.

* * *

Sirius stormed into Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and slammed the door hard behind him. Several curious heads turned his way, but he ignored all of them. He went straight to the back of the shop, where James and Parvana were sitting on a chintz sofa and flipping through a book.

James glanced up, surprised. "Padfoot? What're you —"

"Where's the map?" demanded Sirius.

"I thought you were meeting your uncle."

"I did. The map, Prongs."

"What do you want with the —"

"I'm going to work on it," said Sirius. "Is that so hard to believe?"

James scrunched up his face as if Sirius was a particularly difficult Transfiguration problem he was trying to puzzle out. Parvana looked back and forth between James and Sirius, her eyes wide. Sirius glowered at her.

"Yeah, alright," said James at last. He began to rummage in his bag. "Try not to eat this one, will you?"

"Clever," said Sirius flatly. As he took the map, he noticed the book James and Parvana had been perusing. Its pages were full of large, glossy photographs of a Quidditch team wearing grey and white robes. "Are you two… reading a book together?"

"Not just any book," said James proudly, and Parvana nodded in agreement. "You're looking at _Flying with the Falcons_ , first edition. It's even got a signature from legendary Beater Karl Broadmoore, look…"

He started flipping towards the front of the book, but Sirius paid no attention. "Shouldn't you two be, I dunno, snogging?" He gestured towards the other couples in the shop, all of whom were rather more physically entwined than James and Parvana.

James and Parvana looked at each other. Parvana shrugged. "It's just… the Falmouth Falcons are really interesting. Did you know they have the highest Bludger hit ratio in the whole league?"

"Scintillating," said Sirius dryly, and Parvana bit her lip. "I'll leave you to it, then." As he strode out of the shop, he called loudly over his shoulder, "Try not to get too hot and bothered by Karl Broadmoore's broomstick, if you know what I mean."

James frowned at Sirius and put an arm around Parvana, who looked like she wanted to disappear. Sirius snorted and broke into a run, sprinting up the winding path that led to Hogwarts. It wasn't his fault Quidditch got them off.

Back at Hogwarts, Sirius took the steps to Gryffindor Tower two at a time. Instead of entering the common room, he continued upwards, eventually climbing the ladder to the belfry. He picked his way across the belfry scaffolding and settled down with his back against the Bell of Merlin, opening the map in his lap. Nearly two-thirds of Hogwarts was depicted on the map, although large swathes of the parchment were empty: several areas of the castle stubbornly refused to be charted. In the corner of the map, infuriatingly motionless, sat the dot labelled _Peter Pettigrew._

Sirius stuck his wand between his teeth, pulled out a quill, and got to work. Hours later, someone crouched beside him, and Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry, sorry," said Remus, holding up his hands apologetically.

" _Jesus_ , Moony. A little warning would've been nice."

Remus' mouth twisted wryly as he sat cross-legged beside Sirius. "You sound ridiculous when you use Muggle swears."

"You sound ridiculous all the time."

"In a mood, are we?"

Sirius jabbed his wand at the parchment in front of him. "Leave me alone. I want to suffer in peace."

"In a mood _and_ suffering," said Remus. "Drinks with Uncle Alphard went well then, I take it."

"Sod off."

"I'll pass, thanks," said Remus. Sirius glared, half-tempted to hex him, but Remus appeared not to notice; he leaned over the map, humming thoughtfully. "You've added Flitwick's office, good show; it kept erasing itself when I tried. And —" His eyes widened. "The Homonculus Charm — you…"

Sirius grunted, still watching the map. A single, moving dot labelled _Regulus Black_ was crossing the Entrance Hall, heading towards the corridor that led to the kitchens.

Remus' voice was soft. "Pads."

"It doesn't matter," said Sirius, "because the dungeons are completely Unplottable, and that's where he spends all his time. I shouldn't have bothered." He jabbed a finger at the paper. "I can watch Reg get himself a snack, but that's it. Useless. Waste of my time."

Remus didn't respond. He'd always been good at tactful pauses; Sirius hated that about him.

"I thought —" began Sirius, if only because he wanted to fill the silence. "I wanted to… If I could keep an eye on him…"

Remus sighed deeply. "Did Uncle Alphard say something to make you feel this way?"

"No," said Sirius immediately.

Remus merely raised his eyebrows. _Damn_ him and his tactful pauses.

"He didn't say anything that wasn't true, at least," amended Sirius. "He pointed out that if I don't go back to Grimmauld Place, Regulus would become the heir. He'd have access to all those heaps of Galleons sitting in the family vault."

"Erm," said Remus, "no offence, but surely you knew that before Uncle Alphard told you?"

"Obviously," said Sirius. "Though it turns out I didn't quite consider all the implications."

"Such as?"

"Where do you think Regulus will funnel that money?"

Recognition dawned across Remus' face. "Ah."

Sirius smiled humorlessly. "I was an idiot for not realizing sooner. There's only one reason Mulciber and his cronies are interested in Regulus, and that's for his money. There's only one reason my parents were invited to all those _summer conferences_. Uncle Alphard reckons I should go grovelling back to Grimmauld Place, if only to keep our fortune from falling into the hands of the Death Eaters."

"I see," said Remus. On the map, the dot labelled _Regulus Black_ left the kitchens and vanished into the blank expanse of parchment where the dungeons should have been. "What are you going to do, then?"

"What am I going to _do_? Nothing. I left Grimmauld Place, so it's not my problem anymore. I don't care where our money goes. "

"Sure you don't," said Remus. "You're just up here brooding for fun, then."

Sirius wasn't in the mood to be teased. "Well, I was having fun before _you_ arrived," he said nastily. "If you're just going to be cute about everything, you can piss off."

Hurling insults at Remus made him feel better and worse at the same time. Then Remus winced, looking genuinely hurt, and Sirius instantly regretted having said anything.

"Shit, Moony," said Sirius. "I didn't mean —"

"That was over the line."

"I know it was. I shouldn't have — I'm sorry."

Remus' smile only deepened the bags under his eyes. "Forgiven."

Sirius rolled up the map and stuffed it roughly into his bag. "I told Uncle Alphard where he could shove it. I'm not going back to Grimmauld Place. I don't care if my parents turn my bedroom into a guest room to let the Dark Lord summer in London. It's not my problem."

"Can you live with the consequences of that?"

Sirius smacked the Bell of Merlin with his fist. A deep, vibrating peal resonated through the belfry. "It is NOT my responsibility to save the Blacks from themselves. My parents are a bunch of soulless lunatics. If they want to prop up a Dark wizard, that's on THEIR conscience. Not mine. Understood?" He glared at Remus, who looked annoyingly unperturbed by this outburst.

"Alright," said Remus. He stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers.

"Alright?"

"Yeah," said Remus. He extended a hand towards Sirius. "Come on. It's dinner time."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to lecture me on Doing the Right Thing? You don't even have that disappointed look you get, and I _know_ you're disappointed. You'd rather me be selfless. To put the cause first."

"It's funny," said Remus, as Sirius took his hand and pulled himself up. "Because you're the one saying those things, not me."

"But you're thinking them. I _know_ you, Moony."

Remus put a hand on Sirius' shoulder for balance as they picked their way across the wooden beams of the belfry. "The only thing I'm thinking is that you always do the right thing in the end." The bags under his eyes wrinkled as he smiled at Sirius. "You'll do the right thing by your family, too."

It was completely untrue that Sirius always did the right thing, and he had a hundred counterexamples that he wanted the throw into Remus' face. But Remus was still smiling at him — such a gentle smile, in such a tired face — so Sirius merely huffed, and let Remus lead the way down the tower.

* * *

A winter storm rolled in during the first days of December, blanketing the grounds of Hogwarts in snow and ice. The chill seeped into the corridors, and even the flagstones in the Entrance Hall were cold to the touch. Lily took to wearing a jumper under her robes — how wizards kept warm in the winter with their ridiculous attire, she'd never know.

The cold made the castle feel austere and uninviting. Its stone walls were indifferent to the draft blowing in. _If the castle can't keep out the weather_ , thought Lily, _how can it keep out the Death Eaters?_

She tried to banish the thought by refocusing her attention on _Hide and Weep: Seeking Those Who Wish Not to Be Found_. She'd taken it from the Restricted Section and was perusing its pages at a table near the back of the library, away from Madam Pince's prying eyes.

The book contained many ways to find a person in hiding, but unfortunately nearly all of them involved the use of magic so Dark that Lily was certain she'd be expelled for even suggesting it to Professor McGonagall. As she skimmed a chapter on necromancy, her mind wandered back to her conversation with Regulus. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about what he had said, even when she was supposed to be focusing on other things — like her prefect duties, her apprenticeship in the hospital wing, or her never-ending pile of homework assignments. _Or finding Sally Dearborn,_ she thought guiltily.

But... was it really possible that the Death Eaters could enter Hogwarts? And who else was aware of their plans? If only she and Regulus knew… should she report what he had said to a professor, or keep quiet for his sake? He'd said his House would do bad things to him if word got out that he had blabbed about the Death Eaters' plans. But at the same time... if she knew about the attack beforehand and had the chance to stop it, yet chose not to… students would die, and it would be her fault. Lily wasn't sure she could live with the guilt.

There was a rattle at the window next to her table in the Restricted Section, startling Lily out of her thoughts. A school owl was scratching at the frosted windowpane. Its tawny feathers were ruffled with snow and ice, and there was a damp roll of parchment in its beak. Lily unlatched the window as quietly as she could — Madam Pince had the hearing of a bat — and brought the owl inside so it could defrost a bit. As it warmed itself on the windowsill, she took the roll of parchment from the owl and opened it.

 _Lily,_

 _Kindly stop by the hospital wing at your earliest convenience to discuss your options for apprenticeship over the Christmas holidays. An opportunity has come up that I believe you will be interested in._

— _Poppy Pomfrey, R.M.W., B.C.H._

Lily's heart sank. She enjoyed her work in the hospital wing, but she had been hoping to actually _relax_ over the Christmas holidays. Did Madam Pomfrey expect her to stay at Hogwarts instead of going home to see her family?

"This is a good opportunity," she said out loud, trying to muster up a bit of enthusiasm. The owl looked at her oddly. "Healing is a competitive profession," she told the owl. _Even more so for me_ , she thought. With her blood status — or lack thereof — she needed all the extra opportunities she could get.

She scribbled a reply to Madam Pomfrey — ' _Yes, I'd love to, can't wait to hear more'_ — and sent it off with the owl before reopening _Hide and Weep_. She spent nearly five minutes reading the same paragraph over and over and decided at last that it was a lost cause. She stuffed the tome into her bag, figuring she'd give it another go before bed. Hopefully the subject matter wouldn't give her nightmares.

"You're not taking Advanced Dark Arts," said Madam Pince when Lily tried to check out. "This book is for N.E.W.T.-level Dark Arts students."

" _Nobody_ takes Advanced Dark Arts anymore," said Lily. "That subject was discontinued in the forties. And I have a permission slip, ma'am."

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes. "What if there are students who are studying the Dark Arts independently? What am I to tell them when they come looking for additional study materials?"

 _Good God_. "I'll bring it back tomorrow morning," said Lily.

"And what of the students who must study tonight?"

"Then I'd hope you would report them to Dumbledore, seeing as no student should be _studying the Dark Arts independently_ at Hogwarts," retorted Lily.

Madam Pince blinked. Then she nodded and made a note in her ledger. "That's the spirit."

"Er," said Lily, "what?"

Madam Pince pushed _Hide and Weep_ towards Lily. "I had to check. A book like this is dangerous in the wrong hands, see. But your little outburst sets my mind at ease." She paused, looking at the ledger. "Well, well. It's no wonder. You would never dabble in the Dark Arts anyway, would you? Not with a surname like Evans..."

"It's Abbott, actually," snapped Lily. She snatched the book from a very confused Madam Pince and shoved it into her bag. "You'll want to change that in the ledger, I expect."

Lily left the library fuming.

When she entered the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was flipping through a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ at the triage desk, a half-drunk cup of tea in one hand.

Lily took the seat beside her. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, hoping her voice sound neutral and unaffected.

Madam Pomfrey shot her a keen look. "Bad day?"

Lily crossed her arms. "Muggle-born problems."

Madam Pomfrey drew her wand, and a second mug appeared in front of Lily, full of steaming hot tea. "Want to talk about it?"

Lily curled her hands around the mug and shrugged. "You magical folk can be so… so..."

"Prejudiced?"

"Ignorant, more like," said Lily. She took a sip of tea, appreciating the way it warmed her insides.

"Ah," said Madam Pomfrey. "Yes. That doesn't surprise me."

"Pince thinks Muggle-borns wouldn't dabble in the Dark Arts," said Lily sullenly. "She said I would _never._ Because of my surname. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Absolutely," said Madam Pomfrey. "I have treated enough victims of Dark magic in this infirmary to know that pure-blooded wizards are not the only ones who dabble in the Dark Arts. If Irma Pince thinks otherwise, then she is a fool."

"Exactly!" said Lily. "I mean, it's true I don't use Dark magic. But that's because I don't want to. Not because of my blood. I had a friend…" She swallowed. It had been a while since she'd talked about Severus. "He's got a Muggle surname too, but he's dabbled in the Dark Arts for as long as I've known him. And we grew up in the same Muggle town. It just goes to show, doesn't it?"

"That it does," said Madam Pomfrey. "Try not to judge Irma too harshly, will you? I expect she was trying to give you a compliment."

"Some compliment," said Lily. "Next time she ought to say my hair looks nice and be done with it."

Madam Pomfrey laughed, and Lily smiled in spite of herself, feeling somewhat gratified. She glanced at the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ which lay on the table _._ "Anything good in the news?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head briskly. "I expect you already know the answer to that question." She tapped her wand against the paper, which rolled itself up and zoomed inside one of the drawers of the triage desk. "Now. I assume you're here to talk about your apprenticeship?" She rifled in the drawer of the triage desk, eventually pulling out a letter written on lime green parchment. "I've been in contact with Benjamin Fenwick — he's the Healer-in-Charge of the Artifact Accidents ward at St Mungo's. He has agreed to let you work as his apprentice over the Christmas holidays, if that's something you're interested in."

Lily's heart skipped a beat. An apprenticeship at _St Mungo's_! It was objectively the best wizarding hospital in Britain. All the weird cases got treated there. What kinds of things would she see on the Artefact Accidents ward? Lots of injuries from broomstick collisions and backfiring wands, no doubt. Maybe even the occasional exploded cauldron.

"I'm _definitely_ interested," said Lily. "One question, though — will the apprenticeship involve scrubbing bedpans?"

Madam Pomfrey's lips twitched. "Half of being a Healer is scrubbing bedpans. St Mungo's is no exception."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "At least the Bubble-Head Charm helps with the smell."

"That spell wasn't around when I was an apprentice," said Madam Pomfrey ruefully. "You kids don't know how lucky you have it."

"Come off it," said Lily. "You're how old, twenty-nine?"

Madam Pomfrey shot her a look, half-smiling. "You flatter me."

Lily smiled brightly back at her. "You'll write to Healer Fenward, then, and tell him I accept?"

"Healer _Fenwick_ ," corrected Madam Pomfrey. "And I shall. I expect he'll want you on the ward three days a week, plus one overnight shift. I hope you don't find sleep deprivation a problem."

Lily unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. "I got five hours last night, and I'm doing great."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and pulled out a bottle of ink. "Off you go, then, unless you want me to put you to work. I think there are a few bedpans I haven't gotten around to cleaning yet…"

* * *

Sirius Black didn't feel guilty about what he had said to Uncle Alphard.

Sure, he found his mind wandering back to their conversation with a frequency that was somewhat alarming, and his stomach went all queasy whenever he spotted Regulus at mealtimes, but that didn't mean he felt _guilty_. He was of age, after all. He didn't have to go back to Grimmauld Place. If his parents donated the majority of their considerable wealth to the Dark Lord, what did it matter to Sirius? Legally, he was allowed to do as he pleased.

Sirius just wasn't sure why doing as he pleased made him feel so miserable.

The weather finally improved the last week before the Christmas holidays; although slate-grey clouds still covered the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, no flakes of snow fell upon Sirius' breakfast.

Sirius took a bite of toast and made a face. "Eurgh."

Remus folded that morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. "Is something the matter?"

"The toast is off again," muttered Sirius. He cast a suspicious glance at the ceiling. "I thought the snow was making it taste funny. But it isn't snowing today."

"Well," said Peter, "Remus _did_ mention that our feelings can —"

"Finish that sentence and I'll show _you_ feelings," snarled Sirius. Peter made a rude gesture at him, unconcerned, and Sirius frowned. Threats of violence usually worked on Peter. He must be losing his touch.

Regulus chose that moment to enter the Great Hall, and the toast Sirius was chewing seemed to dry in his mouth. Uncle Alphard's words — ' _future Death Eater_ ' — echoed traitorously through his mind.

 _It's not my problem_ , thought Sirius, averting his gaze. He took another sullen bite of toast and swallowed delicately.

"That's it," said Peter encouragingly. "One bite at a time."

"Oh, sod off," said Sirius. "Where's James? Did he eat already?"

"He's training with Parvana," replied Remus.

Sirius groaned. "Again?"

Remus gave him an odd look. "They train together every Tuesday and Thursday morning, they've both got a free period then. Haven't you noticed?"

"Oh, of course," said Sirius. "Let me just pull out James Potter's timetable, since I've got memorized…" He pretended to unroll an imaginary sheet of parchment. "Right, looks like Prongs has got _physical training_ with Parvana at nine, ignoring his best mates at ten… he'll meet with Parvana again at eleven to give her a single chaste peck on the cheek… Ooh, looks like he actually _speaks_ to his so-called best mates at lunch, but that's only because he wants to copy my homework. Did I get all that right, Moony?"

"A flawless recital," said Remus with a smile. "Though it's my homework, not yours, that he'll ask to copy during lunch, I'm afraid. He thinks your Defence essays can be a bit scattered."

Peter snorted. "Prongs does spend quite a lot of time with Parvana, though, doesn't he?"

"That's to be expected, seeing as they're dating," said Remus.

"Dating sounds dull," said Peter. "I mean, Parv's nice and all, but she's a _girl_. What do they even talk about, anyway?"

"Quidditch," said Sirius and another voice simultaneously. He looked around, surprised; Lily Evans was standing behind them.

"Couldn't help but overhear," she said somewhat sheepishly. "They _do_ talk quite a lot about Quidditch though, don't they?"

"That's an understatement," said Sirius. "Bit of a bore, isn't it?"

Lily nodded, looking relieved. The back of Sirius' neck prickled, and he glanced across the Hall; Regulus was watching them from the Slytherin table. _Future Death Eater_ , thought Sirius, and the breakfast in his stomach threatened to come back up _._

"Well," said Lily awkwardly when Sirius didn't continue their conversation, "I've got to swing by the Owlery, so I'll see you lot in Charms —"

Sirius jumped out of his seat. "The Owlery? I'll come too, I've got — erm… business there." Maybe with some space from Regulus, he would stop _thinking_ so much.

Peter groaned. "Not you, too. If you're abandoning us for a girl..."

Sirius lowered his voice so that Lily wouldn't overhear. "Don't be an idiot. I'm going to work on the _map_ , Pete."

Peter looked sceptical, but he didn't argue the point, and Sirius relaxed a bit. At least he'd told a believable lie.

When Sirius and Lily reached the Owlery, he didn't pull out the map; instead, he leaned against one of the windows, arms folded, and looked out across the grounds of Hogwarts. Watching the other students scurry about like ants was strangely calming. It helped his thoughts slow down.

"Black?" Lily was giving him a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Sirius turned his gaze back towards the window. "Fine. Trying not to overthink things."

Lily joined him at the window. "Such as?"

He glanced at her. "You're nosey, you know that, Evans?"

Lily smiled brightly, unabashed. "Quite. I give good advice, too, you know."

"I'm sure you do," said Sirius. From this height, he could see smoke rising from the chimneys in Hogsmeade. "I have family problems. That's all."

"Your brother?"

In a flash, he had pushed himself off the wall and was staring at her, taught as the string of a bow. "What do you care about my brother? A friend of his, are you?"

She lifted her chin a little. "Of a sort."

Sirius snorted. "Looked like more than that to me at the theme park."

"Well, it's not," said Lily, though there was a blush creeping up her neck. "I know better than to get involved with his lot."

 _Liar,_ thought Sirius. He grinned lopsidedly. "No, you don't. First Snivellus, now Reg… You've got a soft spot for Slytherin bad boys, do you?"

He expected her to get angry, but Lily just laughed. The sound was as clear as the peal of a bell. "Did you _actually_ refer to your brother as a 'bad boy'?"

"Merlin's arse." Sirius smiled ruefully. "I did, didn't I?"

"Regulus is a lot of things," said Lily. "But he isn't _bad_."

"He's a hopeless case, more like."

 _Now_ she was angry, but it was more playful than anything. "Don't say that! He's your _brother_!"

"That's exactly why I'm allowed to say it," said Sirius. "Anyway. I came up here specifically to _not_ think about my family, and you're ruining that for me, so send off your little package and leave me alone."

Lily shrugged and called down one of the school owls. "It's your funeral," she said, tying the package to the owl's leg. "Like I said, though. I give good advice."

Sirius paused. Maybe he should take her up on the offer. Just this once. "Do you know what guilt feels like?"

Lily blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"You know. Guilt. What's it like?"

"Erm," said Lily, "well, it's not a very _nice_ emotion, for one."

"Not nice how? Like anger, or sadness, or…?"

"Not quite like those," said Lily. She chewed on her lip as she thought. "Guilt's a bit like being embarrassed, I suppose. It can make you feel a bit ill. Or you wonder if you ought to do something differently… Maybe you doubt you're making the right choice…" She flushed, though he couldn't imagine why.

"Huh," said Sirius. "Alright. Thanks." He touched his forehead to the windowpane. The glass felt cool against his skin.

Lily was still watching him. "What do you feel guilty about?"

"Who said I feel guilty?"

Lily smirked. "It's obvious. No offence."

"Oh, sure it's obvious," said Sirius sarcastically. "At least for Lily Evans, Muggle-born prefect and all-around wondergirl."

"Wondergirl who has excellent emotional insight," corrected Lily. "Oh, stop pouting. You know I'm right."

"I'll stop pouting if you stop smirking."

Lily tried unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. "Done. My turn to ask a question."

Sirius groaned. How did James ever fancy this girl? She was exhausting. "I didn't know we were taking turns."

"Of course we are! My pearls of wisdom aren't free, you know."

Sirius knew it was a losing battle. "Go on, then, Wondergirl. Ask away."

"Alright," said Lily. She took a deep breath. "Is Dumbledore a manipulative old coot who would sacrifice the lives of Hogwarts students to advance his agenda?"

Sirius wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. "Where in Merlin's name did _that_ come from? Have you been reading the _Quibbler_?"

Lily's cheeks went scarlet. "It's something I heard from… someone. A pure-blood. He said all the old families think Dumbledore's some sort of evil mastermind. I wanted to know if that's true."

Sirius shook his head to clear it. "I think you _have_ been spending too much time with the Slytherins. Dumbledore's not — look, someone as brilliant as him, he probably does make tough calls sometimes. But he isn't evil."

Lily didn't look convinced. "Do you think he cares about students, though? _Actually_ cares? If someone went to him about a sensitive matter..."

Sirius thought about Remus, and Severus Snape, and a secret he had let slip last spring. "He does care. Trust me."

"Trust you? I want to _know_ , I want _facts_ —"

"Damnit, Evans," exclaimed Sirius, banging a fist against the windowpane. "You want all the sordid details? Fine. I crossed a line last year — I know, surprise, surprise — and I should have been expelled. But I wasn't. And you know why? Because Dumbledore knew that if I was expelled, I wouldn't live to see my seventeenth birthday."

The flush had disappeared from Lily's cheeks; she looked horrified. "Because of your parents? Would they really…?"

Sirius laughed harshly. "My parents wouldn't have the nerve to off me. No, I'd have done it to myself. Maybe I'd have run away first, try surviving on my own, only to give up or get hooked on potions in Knockturn Alley. Or maybe I'd have stayed home and done it in my room, alone, to teach my parents a lesson. Either way, Dumbledore thought it nearly certain that I'd try taking my own life. He laid it all out very plainly. He's seen it before, you see."

Lily's voice was soft. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"That's why Dumbledore's the Headmaster, and not you." Sirius took a savage pleasure in the insult. "He's not some dodgy old fool playing chess with our futures. He let me stay at Hogwarts because he _cares_. He valued my life when nobody else did — not even me." He checked his watch, the Elgin that the Potters had bought him. "I'd better be getting on. Peter gets anxious if he's left alone with Remus for too long."

He'd hopped on the cold stone bannister of the staircase, ready to slide down, when he heard Lily's voice behind him. "Sirius."

He stilled. She'd never used his first name before. "Yeah?"

She gave him an affectionate smile. "Thanks for answering my question. I hope you stop feeling guilty soon."

As if on cue, Sirius' stomach twisted uncomfortably. _I do feel guilty_ , he thought. Maybe telling Uncle Alphard 'no' had been the wrong choice. But what was he going to do about it?

"I hope so, too, Wondergirl," he said. "Good luck telling Dumbledore about your _sensitive matter_." He raised a hand in farewell and slid down the bannister towards the landing far below.

* * *

After speaking with Sirius, Lily still wasn't sure if telling a teacher about the potential Death Eater attack was the right thing to do. She agreed with Sirius, of course; one needed only to flip through a history book to find a multitude of examples that proved Dumbledore had dedicated his life to helping others. And he'd done it because he _cared_. She had no doubt that Dumbledore could protect Hogwarts from an attack. But could he protect Regulus from the other Slytherins?

In the end, Lily decided to compromise. The professors needed to know about the rumour of an attack on Hogwarts, but she wouldn't go directly to Dumbledore. Instead, she'd speak with Professor McGonagall first.

On the last day of lessons before the Christmas holidays, Lily stayed behind after their Transfiguration lesson had ended, ostensibly because she had spilt ink all over her desk.

"Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Lily looked up. She had spent the past five minutes attempting to mop up the ink using a spare roll of parchment while the rest of the class filed out of the room. "Yes, Professor?"

"You are a witch, are you not?"

"Oh, yeah," said Lily. She feigned embarrassment as she pulled out her wand. " _Evanesco_." At once, the ink vanished.

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched. "That's better. Now, is there a reason why you have not rushed out of class like the rest of your cohort?"

 _Damn_. Professor McGonagall was definitely onto her. Lily supposed her ruse _had_ been rather obvious. She kept her eyes on her wand, mentally rehearsing what she had planned to say. "Right. Well. It's just…" She took a breath. "I heard a rumour, Professor."

Professor McGonagall pushed her glasses up the narrow bridge of her nose. "A rumour, at Hogwarts? Well, I never. Is it interesting, this rumour?"

Lily smiled in spite of herself. "Well, it's not quite as good as the most recent one about Bertrand Aubrey. Did you know people are saying he's got fingers where his toes should be? Switching Spell gone wrong, I guess."

Professor McGonagall tutted. "That one's true, I'm afraid. Foolish boy; he waited too long to see Madam Pomfrey. She managed to shrink them down to a proper size for toes, but they remain distinctly finger-shaped."

She spoke with utter seriousness, but Lily had to stifle a laugh.

"Did I say something funny, Miss Evans?"

"Er, no, Professor," said Lily, biting back a smile. "I'm sorry to hear that about Bertram."

"I was, too," said Professor McGonagall briskly. "Now, I'd like to hear why you have chosen to stay behind after class instead of packing for the Christmas holidays. What is the rumour you have heard?"

"Ah," said Lily. "Right. It's just, well —" _Don't be melodramatic_ , she told herself. Just state the facts. "A friend of mine told me that Death Eaters are planning to attack Hogwarts." She rushed to say everything before Professor McGonagall could cut in. "I don't know if it's true or not, but I thought a teacher should know, and he wasn't going to tell anybody, so…"

"So you decided to take initiative," said Professor McGonagall. Lily nodded. "Well. Thank you for informing me." Professor McGonagall turned to the blackboard and erased what was written there with a wave of her wand. She looked quite unperturbed.

Lily hesitated. "Er… Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I must say, I'm a bit disappointed that it isn't further news about the state of Bertram Aubrey's feet, but, as far as rumours go, it's not bad."

"So you're not worried?"

Professor McGonagall turned to face Lily. The expression on her face was surprisingly kind, almost indulgent. "Miss Evans. The Headmaster and I have been aware for some time that an attack on Hogwarts is a high priority for the Death Eaters. A castle full of children is an ideal target for those" —her mouth twisted— " _despicable_ criminals. As such, we have taken extensive precautions to ensure the safety of Hogwarts and each student in it."

Lily felt quite foolish all of a sudden. Of course it wouldn't be news to Professor McGonagall that Hogwarts was a target. "Oh. That makes sense."

"All the same, I appreciate the concern," said Professor McGonagall as she gathered a stack of parchment into her arms. "That reminds me, Miss Evans — how goes the search for Sally Dearborn?"

Lily grimaced. She'd been so preoccupied with lessons and her apprenticeship that she hadn't even had time to read _Hide and Weep_. "Oh, er, fine. I found this tracking spell that seemed useful, but it ended up being a waste of time." She might have been imagining it, but she thought Professor McGonagall looked disappointed.

"Our efforts have been similarly unfruitful." Professor McGonagall's voice was clipped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Evans…"

"Oh, right," said Lily. "Well, thanks for listening, Professor." She smiled mischievously. "I'll let you know if I hear anything new about Bertram Aubrey."

The Hogwarts Express was slated to leave Hogsmeade Station at noon the following day, but Lily spent the morning procrastinating on packing anyway. Instead, she listened to a serial on the radio with Mary, Marlene and Parvana, who still had a hard time meeting Lily's eyes. Afterwards, with barely half an hour to spare, Lily stuffed her belongings haphazardly into her trunk and hurried with the others to the Hogwarts Express. They found an empty compartment near the front of the train, but Parvana declined to join them, explaining somewhat sheepishly that James Potter was saving her a seat at the back of the train.

"I've never been so happy to get away from Hogwarts," sighed Lily once they were settled in a compartment. She gazed out the window as the train started into motion, rumbling a bit as it trundled away from the station.

"I can't _wait_ to be home," agreed Mary. She sat cross-legged on her seat and pulled out the latest edition of her favourite Muggle magazine.

Marlene looked back and forth between them, frowning. "Really?"

"Really," said Lily. "I dunno if you've noticed, Marly, but the wizarding world is becoming a bit shit for Muggle-borns. It'll be nice to spend time with normal people and forget about wizarding politics for a while."

"I'm normal!" said Marlene.

Mary turned a page of her magazine. "I love you, Marly, but you're really not."

Marlene shrugged. "Honestly, I know the Daily Prophet's been banging on about this war business, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. They're probably exaggerating the situation. The _Prophet_ 's got plenty of precedence for that."

"How do you mean?" asked Mary.

"Well," said Marlene, "there was that famous incident in the early sixties. The _Prophet_ ran an article about a roaming werewolf pack that slaughtered an entire Muggle village. Well, a couple of years later, an independent paper published an expose — it turned out the story about the werewolf pack was completely false."

Mary was frowning. "Why would the _Prophet_ publish something that wasn't true?"

"The paper's in bed with the Ministry," explained Marlene. "Apparently, they were trying to drum up support for the Werewolf Registry that had just been created. I wouldn't be surprised if this whole 'Muggle disappearance' thing is similar, to make sure the public approves of the Muggle-born Protection Act."

Lily glanced at Mary, who looked similarly perplexed. Lily hadn't thought Marlene would ever say something so… ignorant.

"I mean," said Mary hesitantly, "even if the werewolf thing was made up, I don't think what's happening now is."

"Just you wait," said Marlene. "I bet the disappearances start slowing down any day now that the Muggle-born Protection Act has been passed."

"We _know_ someone who disappeared though," said Lily. "Sally Dearborn."

Marlene snorted. "You mean her father pulled her out of school because she was a political target."

"You can't assume that," said Lily. She had to fight to keep her voice steady. "Nobody knows what happened to her."

"What happened to Sally's beside the point, though," said Marlene.

"What's the point, then?" asked Mary. Her voice quavered, but she was gripping her magazine so tightly the pages were starting to wrinkle. "Because if you mean to tell us that the danger we're in is just a figment of some reporter's imagination…"

Marlene glanced at Mary, and her expression softened. "Of course not," she said quickly. "I just meant bad news sells, and the _Prophet_ exaggerates. That's all."

Mary nodded, relaxing, but Lily wasn't so easily pacified. "I hope that's all you meant," she said. She pulled a handful of papers out of her bag and thrust them at Marlene. "Take a look at these."

Marlene's eyes widened. "Are those the pamphlets McGonagall gave you? With the details of the Muggle-born Protection Act? It's supposed to be very hush-hush, isn't it?" Her eyes swept across the papers. "Resettlement… safe houses… Merlin's balls, _Obliviation_? Are they mental?"

"They're taking the threat seriously, more like," said Lily. "Do you really think the Ministry would go through all this trouble if the disappearances were just some made-up story by the _Prophet_?"

Marlene forehead creased with worry. "No, I suppose not. Good Lord, they've even got the MACUSA involved…"

Mary eyed the pamphlets apprehensively. "Lily, have you got any idea what your mum's going to think about all this?"

"I haven't the foggiest," said Lily. "I wrote to her about the Muggle-born Protection Act a while ago — before it passed the House of Lords. She sounded open to the idea, but I think she expects magical protection to be something along the lines of a charmed amulet she can wear. Not…"

"…Moving to America and changing her name to, I dunno, Barbra Freedom?" asked Marlene, handing the papers back to Lily.

"Exactly," said Lily. "Plus, even if my mum went along with it, there's no way Tuney would agree to leave England. Not ever."

"I can't imagine my family will want to move, either," said Mary glumly. "I don't think they understand the danger they're in."

"On one hand, that's stupid and short-sighted of your families," said Marlene. "On the other, though… how do you convince someone of a threat they can neither see nor understand?"

"Exactly," said Lily, stretching. "God, this topic is depressing. D'you understand now why we might want a break from the wizarding world for a bit?"

Marlene nodded. "Completely."

The rest of the journey to London passed uneventfully, except for when Lily stumbled upon James and Parvana while patrolling the corridors of the Hogwarts Express. To her relief, they weren't doing stretching exercises. Instead, they sat side-by-side on a storage crate in the last train car of the Hogwarts Express, unaware that Lily had pulled the door open. She backed out quietly, red-faced, when she realized they were exchanging Christmas gifts.

As the train pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Lily and Mary changed into their Muggle clothes, while Marlene left the compartment to find the Gryffindor Quidditch team and bid them happy Christmas.

Lily was tying the laces on her trainers when the train jerked to a sudden stop. "Have we arrived, then?" asked Lily, catching herself.

Mary peered out the window."Must be. Yeah, we're h—" She broke off.

"Is everything alright?" asked Lily, glancing up. Mary's face was as white as chalk. "Mary? What's wrong?"

Mary didn't respond; she stared out the window, terrified.

"Mary?"

Mary's voice was less than a whisper. "It's the Dark Lord. He's here."

Lily's heart began to pound against her ribcage. "No," she said immediately, springing out of her seat. "That's impossible —" _Professor McGonagall said we were safe. She said they were prepared._

Lily looked out the window. Platform Nine and Three Quarters was completely empty. No, not completely — a tall figure stood in the middle of the platform.

He was Death itself. His skull was completely hairless, and he had slits for a nose, skin white as bone. White as the wand he was holding. His robes swirled as if even the wind bowed to him, and his eyes —

He looked directly at her.

He had slits for pupils and no irises, just an endless swath of crimson, as if he was bleeding from the eyes, and Lily was going to die, she was going to be sixteen and _dead_ , even though she'd never had a boyfriend, never made up with Tuney, never figured out what happened to Sally Dearborn —

Death _laughed._

"Mudbloods of Hogwarts," he said. He did not raise his voice nor magically project it, yet Lily heard him all the same. "Your professors have failed you. Your Ministry has failed you. You think a law will keep you safe?"

He tilted his skeletal face towards the sky and raised his wand. Lily followed his gaze even as she willed herself not to, knowing whatever he was about to do was terrible —

" _MORSMORDRE_ ," said Death, and a sickly green jet of light shot into the sky. It formed an enormous, ghastly skull with a serpent for a tongue. The serpent unfurled itself and descended towards the platform, its massive jaw unhinged, ready to swallow the train whole —

"Nothing can protect you from me," said the figure. He flicked his wand, and every door of the train flew open with a bang.

Mary whimpered. Lily wanted to reach out to her, but she felt rooted to the spot. This wasn't happening. He wasn't real.

"It is high time I enter the public sphere," said Death. He took a single step towards the train. He had bones for feet. "Let the Ministry doubt no more. Your corpses will be proof of my existence." He took another step.

"Now," said Death, "wouldn't you like to know my name?"

Lily already knew who he was. He was the Reaper.

"Those who follow me call me the Dark Lord," said Death, "but I do not allow Mudbloods to follow me." He pointed his wand at the middle of the train. There was a flash of emerald green.

Silence.

Followed by screaming.

"Bow to death, Mudbloods," said the Reaper. "You may call me Lord Voldemort."


	24. The Attack on Platform 9 and 34

As soon as the ghastly skull and snake appeared in the sky, James sprang out of the seat he had been sharing with Parvana and began to rummage through his bag. His hands closed around the familiar silky fabric of his Invisibility Cloak, and he hurriedly draped it around his shoulders.

Sirius, who had been glued to the window, turned to face James. There was a look of horror on his handsome face. "Prongs, mate —"

" _Stay here_." James' voice was low. The figure on the platform was still speaking, which made it difficult to concentrate. It was as if the Dark Lord's words were being whispered directly into his ear.

Sirius wasn't so easily deterred. "If you're about to do something stupid, I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," said James. "You lot need to keep each other safe."

Remus had pressed both his hands over his ears. He looked at James in alarm. "You don't know what he's got planned —"

"Sure I do," said James. "That maniac's after Muggle-borns. I've got find Lily and Mary — make sure they're alright —"

"And what about us?" asked Peter. His voice was several octaves higher than normal.

"You've got Moony's expanding trunk to hide in," said James. "You'll be fine. Parvana, do you know where the girls are?"

Parvana's eyes were wide as saucers, but she nodded determinedly. "They're in the carriage at the front of the train."

"Excellent," said James, even though things were far from excellent. It would take him at least forty-five seconds to reach the front of the train if he went at a full sprint, and he might not have forty-five seconds to spare. He pointed at Sirius, Remus, and Peter in turn. "If _anything_ happens to Parvana, I'm holding you lot personally responsible, Dark wizard be damned."

Before any of them could respond, James vanished under the Invisibility Cloak. As he bolted out of the compartment, he realized it was going to take a lot longer than forty-five seconds to find Lily and Mary. The corridor of the train was packed with students trying to get a glimpse of whatever was happening on the platform.

James pushed past a large group of Hufflepuffs as quickly as he could. A few students shrieked, apparently unaccustomed to being jostled by an invisible force, but he didn't slow. The Dark wizard was still talking — of course the maniac would be the type to make speeches — and James' head began to pound. He needed to go faster. The exclamations and protests of the students he was elbowing past grew louder as he pushed his way through the train, but there was no time to worry about that now, no time —

A group of first years blocked the door to the next carriage. One, a pale, dark-haired girl who had already changed into her Muggle clothes, was jumping up and down, trying to see out the window. James reached out, ready to shove her roughly aside if he had to — first years were tough, she'd be fine —

A jet of green light shattered the window, spraying the first years with shards of glass. The girl was mid-jump, and the curse hit her squarely in the chest.

Time seemed to slow as the spell held the girl momentarily aloft. Her mouth opened slightly; she looked puzzled, like she couldn't believe she'd actually been hit. Then, like a candle being snuffed, her head dropped to her chest. She fell in a heap on the floor.

The other students — they were so small, they had to be first years, maybe second — stared at her crumpled form. A few were bleeding, injured by the shattered window, but they didn't seem to have noticed.

Then one began to scream.

With a great effort, James forced himself to keep moving, even as the image of the girl seared itself into his retinas. Her expression of mild confusion. Jeans with flowers embroidered on the seams.

Lily and Mary could be next.

The Dark wizard began to speak again. His words filled James' ears like cotton. As James ran, he clapped his hands over his ears like Remus had done. It didn't help, it didn't block him out —

James nearly collided with the food trolley, and he realized he had reached the front of the train. He pulled open the door to the nearest compartment without thinking, praying it was the right one.

Inside the compartment, Lily and Mary were staring out the window. They were both in their Muggle clothes, such obvious targets, _why_ didn't Muggles wear robes like the rest of the civilized world? Lily turned as the door opened, frowning, and James realized he was still invisible under the Cloak.

"It's me," he said. He lowered the Invisibility Cloak just enough to allow his head to appear.

"Potter?" said Lily. She and Mary stared at him in bewilderment. "What — is this some sort of joke?"

James realized they may not have heard of Invisibility Cloaks before. "No time to explain," he said. He crouched beneath the window and shook the Cloak, causing it to shimmer faintly. "Get under the Cloak, quickly, come _on_ —"

Lily exchanged a glance with Mary, then dove under the Cloak. Her arm pressed against James' side as she kneeled next to him. Mary followed suit, curling up against James' other side.

"Are we invisible now?" whispered Lily.

James put a finger to his lips and nodded. He pulled the edges of the Cloak around their ankles, hoping they were completely concealed. The girls' trunks were still on the luggage rack, but there was no helping that, the trunks wouldn't have fit under the Cloak anyway —

Loud cracking noises filled the air, like many fireworks going off at once.

"Apparition," breathed Lily, so quietly that James could barely hear.

"Aurors?" asked Mary.

James dared to raise his head half an inch, straining to see out the window. The Dark Lord — Voldemort, had he called himself? — was surrounded by dozens of dark-robed figures. Their faces were shrouded by masks.

"Not Aurors," said James in a hushed voice. "Death Eaters."

Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the Hogwarts Express. James braced himself for another jet of green light. _Let him miss_ , thought James desperately, _please let him miss..._

Voldemort's mouth moved. " _IMMOBILUS_."

Every muscle in James' body froze, locking him in place. Try as he might, he couldn't move. On either side of him, Lily and Mary stiffened — they must have been paralyzed, too.

A chorus of muffled cries rose from the corridor, and James' heart began to pound. Surely Voldemort couldn't have immobilized the entire study body of Hogwarts — surely nobody was that powerful —

Out on the platform, Voldemort gestured at the train with his wand. The dark-robed figures surrounding him began to march forward, wands drawn, towards the train.

There was another flash of green light, followed by laughter. Mary whimpered.

Footsteps were approaching their compartment. James tried to look towards the door, but he couldn't so much as turn his head. He was stuck with his face pressed uncomfortably to the window. He hoped they were well-hidden under the Cloak.

The footsteps grew louder. Just outside the door to the compartment, they stopped. Next to James, Lily went silent; she must have been holding her breath.

There was a scraping sound as the door slid open. "Nobody in here," said a gruff voice.

"Whose trunks are these, then?" replied a haughty female voice.

The first voice grunted. "Probably belong to one of those filthy Mudbloods in the corridor."

The woman giggled. Her laugh sounded vaguely familiar. "The train reeks, doesn't it? It's a good thing we're here to clean the place up…"

The door slammed shut behind them, and the sound of footsteps faded away. Beside him, Lily exhaled, her breaths rapid and short.

James refocused his attention on the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Voldemort hadn't moved; he was watching the Hogwarts Express, a satisfied expression on his cadaverous face. Above him, the grotesque skull with the snake for a tongue cast an eerie green light over the platform. The snake snapped its jaws as it grew larger, more life-like. Its fangs were elongating, and a wicked light gleamed in its eyes as it stretched towards the train.

Voldemort tilted his face upward. He closed his eyes, bathing in the sickly light of the skull, and a horrible smile stretched across his wasted lips.

Suddenly, several high, clear notes rang out across the platform. The sound was electrifying, invigorating; it made James feel warm, as if he'd just downed a bottle of Butterbeer. The strange, ethereal music grew louder, and the hairs on James' arms prickled.

Voldemort's horrible smile vanished. His eyes snapped open. He looked almost — afraid?

James didn't want to know what sort of thing could make a wizard as evil as Voldemort look scared. He tried to wrench himself away from the window, even though he knew it was no use, since he was still paralyzed —

As the music rose to a crescendo, reverberating through James' bones, the curse that was holding them in place broke. James tumbled to the floor, knocking over Lily and Mary.

"Oh, my God," said Lily, scrambling to get back under the Invisibility Cloak. "Oh my _God_. What — Mary, _get under here_ —"

Mary leapt towards the window, desperate to see what was outside. The music was so loud it made James' teeth vibrate as it changed pitch, like a song —

"Fawkes," said James, as Mary exclaimed, "Dumbledore!"

James jumped up, Lily and Mary at his side, and flung the Cloak around them. Outside, a blur of red and gold pierced one of the enormous skull's eye sockets. The skull and snake vanished at once in a cloud of smoke. The phoenix streaked towards Voldemort, who barely managed to Disapparate in time. Fawkes beat its enormous wings, skidding to a halt where Voldemort had been standing. The bird let out a screech that made James' hair stand on end.

There was a flash of white light, and Dumbledore appeared below Fawkes on the platform. He turned on his heel, moving surprisingly quickly for such an old man, and slashed his wand through the air. A jet of gold burst from his wand, barreling towards a seemingly random corner of the platform —

There was an ear-splitting crack as the spell connected with something invisible. Plumes of black smoke began to rise from the spot. Fawkes screeched again, and Dumbledore whirled around, wand aloft, just as Voldemort appeared behind him. Their spells — one liquid gold, the other emerald green — collided in midair and ricocheted away. Voldemort's spell exploded into the wall, sending fragments of brick and dust in all directions. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the rubble shot towards Voldemort, but the Dark wizard vanished before the cloud of debris could reach him.

The air filled with popping sounds, and a dozen Aurors in dragon-hide leather appeared beside Dumbledore. They drew their wands and looked towards Dumbledore, waiting for some kind of signal.

Dumbledore didn't move. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his keen eyes scanned the empty platform, searching for a sign of the Dark Lord's presence. Another group of Aurors Apparated behind him, but Dumbledore's concentration didn't falter for an instant.

There was a crack, and Voldemort reappeared, hovering — _actually_ hovering, as if he could fly — far above the platform. Fawkes let out a piercing cry and swooped towards Dumbledore, who grabbed the phoenix's tail feathers. Fawkes shot upward, pulling Dumbledore along as they streaked towards Voldemort.

The Aurors aimed their wands skyward, but Voldemort deflected their barrage of spells with an irritated flick of his wand. His red eyes narrowed, clearly displeased at how the tables had turned, and he made a strange gesture, dragging his wand across his forearm.

Several cracking noises sounded from the train, and the dark-robed Death Eaters Apparated to Voldemort's side, forming a circle around him. Somehow they, too, were able to hover in place, shielding Voldemort from Dumbledore and the Aurors. Voldemort waved his wand; he and his followers disappeared with another loud crack, just as Fawkes and Dumbledore hurtled through the space where they had been.

An uneasy silence settled across Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The Aurors held tight to their wands, scouring their surroundings as if Voldemort would reappear at any moment. At last, Dumbledore shook his head. Fawkes let out a dissatisfied-sounding cry and deposited him onto the platform. Dumbledore motioned the nearest Auror over and began to speak with him. James couldn't make out what they were saying, but he didn't miss the seriousness of Dumbledore's expression.

Mary brushed against James' side as she swayed slightly. "Is it over, then? Is the Dark wizard gone?"

"Dunno," said James. He kept his eyes on the platform, half-expecting Voldemort to reappear at any moment. "Maybe."

Several Aurors began to perform some sort of complex counter-charm on the barrier separating Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from King's Cross. As soon as they finished, frantic-looking family members poured onto the platform, crying out for their children.

James inhaled sharply upon seeing their panicked expressions and tear-streaked faces. This was real. It had really happened. Voldemort had been here, and — oh, Merlin, he had murdered that girl. That little girl with her flowered jeans. James' ribs began to squeeze together painfully. He was being crushed, he couldn't get enough air, and that Muggle-born girl was _dead_ —

"Potter?"

He blinked. Lily was watching him steadily. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe," she said.

"We —"

"Not now," said Lily. "Just breathe."

She sounded so calm, as if she invited Lord Voldemort over for tea every Sunday. Why wasn't she afraid? They had wanted _her_ , those maniacs —

"Deep breaths. In through your nose. Out through your mouth."

 _Dumbledore is here_ , James reminded himself. The Aurors were here. They were safe.

"That's it," said Lily. "Inhale. Exhale."

James breathed.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Nobody was allowed to leave the train; after securing the platform, the Aurors boarded the Hogwarts Express and stood guard outside of every carriage. Harried-looking officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrived soon after that to corral the panicked families into some semblance of order. James spent nearly half an hour staring out the window, trying to spot his parents in the crowd, but the platform was in such a state of chaos that it was hopeless. After some time, several dozen Healers dressed in emerald green robes Apparated onto the train platform and marched aboard the Hogwarts Express to examine the students.

"I'm fine," muttered James as a bald Healer with deep brown skin checked the state of his humours. He could vaguely hear Lily speaking to the Healer — she seemed to be answering the questions James had been ignoring. He gazed listlessly out the window. Two Healers were leaving the train, pointing their wands at a grey, rectangular box hovering in the air above them. The box was just the right size to hold a student. Maybe a first year, with dark hair and embroidered jeans —

The Healer pressed a phial of silver potion into James' hands. James drank it dully, without tearing his eyes from the box. The throng of worried families had noticed it too, judging by the devastated looks on their faces. A few parents began to shout at the officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They were demanding answers, James was certain, and now a group of Healers were carrying out a second box. The Healers' expressions were impossibly neutral, especially compared to the faces of the crying parents —

James' mind began to hum with a sense of heightened clarity, as if he'd just drunk a cup of tea. He felt clear and alert, yet totally calm. He looked away from the window and towards the empty phial in his hand. "What did you give me?"

The Healer smiled. "Calming Draught. How are you feeling?"

"Better," said James. He was mildly surprised to find it was true.

"Good," said the Healer. He handed them each a round decanter of purple potion out of his briefcase. "Dreamless Sleep. Take one mouthful a night for the next week, to avoid excess production of yellow bile. If you continue to feel unwell after a week's time, please contact St Mungo's." With that, he snapped his briefcase shut and swept out of the compartment.

James looked at Lily. "Yellow bile?"

Lily nodded as she held her potion up to the light. "It causes anxiety, or so they say. Especially after something horrible has happened. Wish we had these in the Muggle world — the effects of trauma can be devastating, you know."

"Dreamless Sleep works really well, too," said Mary, tucking her potion into her bag. She seemed much more relaxed than she had a few minutes ago, and James wondered if the Healer had given her a Calming Draught as well. He hadn't really been paying attention.

"You've taken it before?" asked James. He'd always thought of Mary as being silly and care-free, like the Gryffindor version of Daisy Hookum. "When were you at risk for, er, trauma-related anxieties?"

Mary made a face. "Mulciber tried to maul me with an Inferi cat last year. It was awful."

"What a bloody psychopath," said James with rather less conviction than he felt. He peered back out the window, passing over the grey boxes as if they were utterly unimportant. He was hoping to see his father's shock of white hair poking out above the crowd. "When d'you think they'll let us off this nightmare of a train? I'm getting hungry."

"You're _hungry_?" repeated Lily.

"What?" asked James innocently.

"Nothing," said Lily. There was a small smile playing around her lips. "You must be feeling better, if you're hungry."

"Healing magic's amazing stuff," said James. "Seriously, though, if I sit here much longer I'm going to go off my rocker."

Unfortunately for James, the sun had nearly set by the time the Aurors began to let them off the train, one carriage at a time. Lily and Mary were escorted by no less than five Aurors to a group of parents wearing Muggle clothes. A shimmering, bubble-like protective charm surrounded the Muggle families, and Aurors were lined shoulder-to-shoulder around the charm's perimeter. In the dim light, James could just make out Lily's red hair as she vanished into the bubble.

"Name?" asked the Auror standing guard at the door of the train.

"Oh," said James stupidly. "Right. James Fleamont Potter."

The Auror ran his finger down a list of names. "James Fleamont Potter. You are to go home with Lottie the house-elf, who should be in Queue Two." He jerked a thumb towards the far end of the platform.

"Er, sorry," said James, who was certain he had misheard. "I'm going with Lottie? Not Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?"

"Lottie the house-elf," repeated the Auror impatiently. "Queue Two, then, off you go…"

James stepped onto the platform, confused. It wasn't uncommon for house-elves to accompany pure-blooded students with less attentive parents, but Fleamont and Euphemia had always come to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to pick him up. James' confusion turned into worry, but the feeling suddenly faded away. _I'm sure they're fine_ , he thought. He suspected he'd feel more concerned if the last of the Calming Draught wasn't coursing through his veins.

Sirius and Lottie were standing slightly apart from Queue Two, which was less of a queue and more of a cluster of worried parents that the surrounding Aurors could barely contain.

Sirius' shoulders sagged in relief as James approached them. "Thank Merlin. You're alright, then?"

"I always am," said James, pulling Sirius in for a hug. "You? How're the others, did they make it out alright? How's Parvana?"

"Everyone's fine," said Sirius. "We missed the whole thing, actually. Brilliant idea, hiding in Moony's expanding trunk — we didn't even know it was over 'til the Aurors started making their rounds."

"Good," said James. He turned towards Lottie, who was wringing her hands nervously. "Lottie, where're Mum and Dad? Are they alright?"

Lottie swallowed hard. "Lottie is having orders to bring the young masters home," she squeaked, sounding apologetic. "Miss Euphemia said to look after the young masters while she and Master Fleamont… while they…" With a choking noise, she trailed off. Her bulbous eyes watered.

"While they what?"

Lottie twisted her apron instead of responding. James ran his hands through his hair, which only managed to make it look messier. "Lottie, what happened? Lord Voldemort, did he —"

"No, sir, not the Dark wizard, sir!" squeaked Lottie, staring at her spindly fingers. "Not Dark magics, nothing like that, sir —"

"Then _what_? Lottie, don't scare me like this, not with the day we've had — "

A fat tear slid down Lottie's cheek. "Master Fleamont and Miss Euphemia are ill, sir."

Sirius shot him an alarmed glance, and James' blood ran cold. "How ill?"

"Very, very ill." Lottie began to sob in earnest. "Master Fleamont and Miss Euphemia are in St Mungo's."

* * *

James and Lottie began to row, which left Sirius utterly bored; apparently, Lottie had strict orders to take them straight home, but James wouldn't hear of it ("We're fine, we don't need rest, honestly — take us to St Mungo's, I wanna see my parents!"). Instead of listening to the quarrel, Sirius stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, watching the Ministry officials bustle about Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. There were so many Aurors — were any of them in league with the Order that Uncle Alphard had talked about? Or did the Order operate completely separately from the Ministry?

Eventually, Lottie's tearful insistence wore James down, and she took both him and Sirius by the hand. "We is going _home_ ," she said forcefully, and Sirius felt a familiar lurching sensation as she Apparated them to the Potter estate.

They appeared in the foyer with a popping sound. Sirius barely had time to get his bearings before Lottie shooed them up the stairs and bustled away to make tea. Sirius exchanged a glance with James, whose face was oddly blank. "Shall we?"

"Be my guest," said James flatly. There was something in his tone of voice that Sirius had never heard before. Sirius shrugged and levitated his trunk up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. The Potters insisted the bedroom was his now, but Sirius knew better.

Across the landing, James tossed his trunk into his room with rather more force than was strictly necessary. Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe of the guest bedroom, watching him.

"' _We is going home_ ,'" muttered James, imitating Lottie's high-pitched voice. "What a load of dragon dung. I'm completely fine, and my parents are in _hospital,_ I don't see why…" He trailed off as he pulled out his wand. He tapped it against his trunk, which burst open, and its contents began to swirl violently around the room.

Sirius watched James' things arrange themselves. Even the textbooks seemed furious as they whirled through the air. "Throwing a strop won't help, mate."

"Don't tell me I'm not allowed to be angry," snapped James. He jerked his wand upward, and a set of dark green robes hurtled into his wardrobe. "My parents —"

"It's not just your parents, though, is it?" Sirius strode into James' room without waiting for an invitation. Once he was shoulder-to-shoulder with James, he drew his wand and began to help with the unpacking. "What happened when you went to find Lily and Mary?"

"Nothing." James made a strange jerking motion that might have been a shrug. The movement reminded Sirius so much of Regulus that his chest twinged painfully.

"Nothing," repeated Sirius. "Just bought some sweets from the trolley, did you?"

"Alright, you git," said James, "if you're really dying to know…" And he filled Sirius in on what had happened on the train.

When he had finished, Sirius whistled. "You realize you likely saved Lily and Mary's life, right?"

"Er… I dunno," said James. "I'm sure they'd have been fine."

"I'm not."

James didn't meet Sirius' gaze. Instead, he scoured the room, as if he was looking for something else that needed unpacking. He pointed his wand at the Puddlemere United figurines lining a shelf, and the miniature Quidditch players began to rearrange themselves.

Sirius watched him closely. He'd seen James angry before — James had even been properly angry at _him_ last year — but this was something different. James Potter looked _lost._

Sirius placed a hand on James' back. "It's alright to be upset, Prongs."

"I'm not upset," said James thickly. He gave another twitch and wiped at his eyes. Sirius decided to take a leaf out of Remus' book and say nothing.

After a moment, James took off his glasses and began to polish them on the hem of his robes. "I dunno," he said hoarsely. "It's just… it's all real, isn't it? The war, I mean. We've been gallivanting around Hogwarts and feeling pleased with our cleverness, but out in the real world, people have been _dying_."

Sirius sighed heavily. "Yeah. That about sums it up."

James shoved his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Why aren't you going to pieces about it, too, then? You're so calm. You're acting like — like Evans was. Why isn't everybody — I mean, they're killing people, Sirius. Voldemort killed that girl, and I saw it. We're at war, and… and —"

Sirius sat on James' bed. He examined his wand before responding, trying to put the thoughts in his brain in the right order. "I dunno where you've been, mate, but we've been at war for some time now. My lunatic family's been supporting the Dark Lord for years. Trying to strong-arm me and Reg into joining up with the Death Eaters." He pretended to gag. "This might be the first you and I have had to deal with it directly, but trust me, the war's been going on for a while."

"I'm an idiot," said James. "I never realized."

"Granted, you _are_ an idiot," said Sirius, "but not for this. Your parents sheltered you from the worst of it. That's a good thing."

James shook his head and sat beside Sirius on the bed. "Your family is awful."

"Really? That's funny, I hadn't noticed…"

"You should've been born a Potter," said James. "I know you're of age and all, but it's not too late to change your name."

Sirius' smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Shame you didn't have a sister. I could've married into the family."

"I mean, _I'm_ still available," said James.

Sirius laughed. "Won't Parvana get jealous, though?"

"Oh," said James, his smile fading. "Yeah, I suppose. I kind of…"

"…Forgot about her, just now?"

James grimaced. "Don't tell anyone about that."

"I'm no expert, mate," said Sirius, "but the relationships _I've_ been in usually involve a little less Quidditch strategizing and a little more snogging."

"Since when have _you_ been the relationship expert of the group? Pete's had more girlfriends than you —"

"Only because of that stint in third year when everyone thought he was _sensitive_ —"

"Hit a nerve, did I?" said James, and he gave Sirius a playful shove. "Out of my room, Black. I've got a date with a bottle of Dreamless Sleep, and I hear she's _excellent_ in bed."

* * *

Lily woke before sunrise the next morning, feeling unusually well-rested. As she turned over in bed, ready to fall back asleep, the previous day's events burst to the forefront of her mind with such clarity that she jerked awake. The Dark Lord and his followers had attacked the Hogwarts Express, and James Potter, of all people, had come to her rescue. There had been dozens of Death Eaters — that awful skull and snake made of smoke — and a few students had died, hadn't they?

Lily shuddered as she remembered the horrible, helpless feeling of being paralyzed under the Dark Lord's curse. At least she hadn't had nightmares, thanks to the phial of the Dreamless Sleep that the Healer had given her. She got out of bed reluctantly — it would be impossible to fall back asleep after thinking about all _that_ — and padded downstairs, still in her nightgown.

Her mother was already at the kitchen table, pouring over the stack of pamphlets about the Muggle-born Protection Act that Lily had brought home. Lily stood behind her mum's chair and bent down to hug her. Her mum closed her eyes and tilted her head against Lily's.

"What do you think?" asked Lily at last. She took a seat beside her mum and poured herself some tea.

Lily's mother shook her head. "I'm not sure what to think. After what happened yesterday… It seems foolish to not take the Ministry's advice. But…" She trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pamphlet entitled _Relocation Administration: Why Muggles like You Are Making the Move_.

"America's a long way away," said Lily softly. "Even for wizards, it's far."

Her mum nodded. "What do you think of the other options?"

" _Don't_ get Obliviated." Lily stirred sugar into her tea rather more fiercely than she'd intended. "They'll erase your memories — it's exactly as horrible as it sounds." She swallowed. "You'd forget me."

"They'd find it hard to Obliviate me, then," said her mum. "There's nothing they could do to make me forget you."

She squeezed Lily's hand, and a lump rose in Lily's throat. "The protective charms seem like a decent option," Lily offered, wiping her eyes. She pushed a relevant pamphlet towards her mum. "I researched them a bit. They're effective, and you wouldn't have to leave town."

Her mother nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too."

"Moving to America is probably overkill, anyway," said Lily. "Nobody's going to go after our family. Why would they? I'm just a student. I've never even met a Death Eater." _Except for Severus,_ she thought. But he wouldn't hurt them. Probably.

"I agree," said Lily's mum. "We'll do the protective charms. I'll take care of these forms and send them off to your Ministry today."

Lily bit her lip. She hoped they were making the right choice. "Sounds great, Mum."

Her mum began to fill out one of the many forms on the table — using an actual, normal, biro, _not_ a ridiculous quill — and Lily glanced at that morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. The front page was emblazoned with a massive picture of the ghoulish skull and snake undulating above Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Above the photograph was the headline, which read: _LORD VOLDEMORT MAKES FIRST APPEARANCE, MURDERS TWO ON HOGWARTS EXPRESS_.

"I don't want you going back to that school," said Lily's mum. Her voice wavered as she stared at the photograph plastered across the front page.

"I have to go back, though," said Lily. "I have to take my N.E.W.T.s. "

"You could go to Elmwood Academy with Petunia," suggested her mum. "I'm sure Tuney would help you acclimate —"

"Mum, please," said Lily. "I can do _magic_. Actual, real magic. How happy d'you think I'd be studying maths at Elmwood?"

Her mum smiled sadly. "I thought you might say something like that."

Lily flipped the _Daily Prophet_ over, so that neither of them could see the picture of the skull. "Besides, we've got Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts. He's the greatest wizard of all time — he fought off Lord Voldemort single-handedly yesterday. I watched it happen, Mum, and Voldemort was _scared_ of Dumbledore. I think that's why the train was attacked, and not Hogwarts itself. Voldemort didn't want to fight Dumbledore one-on-one because he knew he'd lose."

"The paper said the same thing," said Lily's mum. "Dumbledore's got quite a lot of titles, hasn't he? Headmaster at Hogwarts and Chief Mugwump on the Wizem — the Winzen — the Wizarding jury, anyway…"

"Yeah, he's done loads," said Lily. "Back in the forties there was another Dark Lord named Grindelwald who was even worse than Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore was the wizard who defeated him, too."

Footsteps sounded from the stairs as Petunia came down for breakfast. Lily and her mum looked at each other.

"Shall we put these away?" asked Lily's mother, gathering the _Prophet_ and a handful of pamphlets into her arms.

"Brilliant idea," said Lily, and they stuffed the various papers into a drawer.

"What's going on?" asked Petunia as she entered the kitchen. "Why do you two look so guilty?"

Lily and her mum exchanged glances. Petunia didn't know about what had happened the day before.

"Nothing," said Lily's mum at last.

Petunia's nostrils flared. "You're hiding something."

"We were planning a birthday surprise for you," said her mum at the same time Lily said, "Just gossiping about Mrs Roberts' hideous new trellis."

Petunia crossed her arms. "Nice," she said. "Really nice, lying to my face."

"Now, Petunia — " began their mother.

Lily cut her off. "You want the truth, Tuney? Fine. An evil wizard killed two students from my school yesterday because they were from non-magical families. Just like me. So now Mum and I are discussing our _options_. Would you rather move to America or have your memory erased?"

Petunia's mouth dropped open. A flush crept up Lily's neck, but she didn't break eye contact with Petunia.

"I didn't know that had happened," said Petunia at last.

"Now you do," said Lily.

Petunia's lips pressed into a line. After a moment, she sat primly across the table from Lily. "Is there tea?"

Lily pushed the teapot towards Petunia warily.

Petunia stirred two sugars into her tea, just as Lily had done. "Well," she said finally, looking up from her teacup at Lily. "I'm glad you're alright."

For the second time that morning, Lily's eyes watered. "Thanks, Tuney. Me, too."


	25. Wand and Bone

The following morning, a pair of soot-stained Ministry workers knocked on the front door of the Evans house.

Lily opened the door, expecting the postman. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the two wizards standing in the middle of her sleepy Muggle street. Had they come to deliver more bad news? Maybe Hogwarts had been attacked this time — or Hogsmeade, or Diagon Alley…

"Lily Evans?" asked one, a middle-aged wizard whose brown goatee was stained grey with ash. He flashed a badge pinned to his robes at her. "Dilwyn Gritworth of the Floo Network Authority."

"Oh," said Lily, relieved. They weren't Aurors, then. Just normal Ministry employees. But what were they doing in Cokeworth? Maybe they had gotten lost. "Can I help you?"

"We're here to have a look at your fireplace," said Gritworth. "Been told you require a connection with St Mungo's."

Lily relaxed. Madam Pomfrey must have written the Ministry about her apprenticeship. She ushered Gritworth and his partner inside and shut the door quickly behind them. Hopefully the neighbours hadn't noticed the strange men who had just Apparated into plain view.

"The sitting room's this way," she said loudly when Gritworth lingered in the foyer, gawping at the lightbulb affixed to the ceiling. She wondered how often Muggle fireplaces were connected to the Floo Network. Probably never. Her mum didn't seem bothered by Gritworth's staring; she was ogling him with a similar expression, mouth slightly ajar.

In the sitting room, Gritworth was immediately taken with the Muggle photographs atop the mantel. "These don't move at all, then?" he asked Lily as his partner poked and prodded at the fireplace.

"The one on the end does if you stare at it long enough," lied Lily, which earned her a disapproving look from her mum. Gritworth nodded solemnly and spent the better part of the next hour keeping one eye on the photograph while his partner did most of the work.

"Well, you're all set," said Gritworth cheerfully once they had finished. "Shame I didn't see that photograph move, though. Surely if we stay five more minutes..."

"Er, think I saw it waving earlier," said Lily. "You must have missed it, sorry..." She held the front door open for them, and Gritworth craned his neck to get a view of the first-floor landing as they left.

Lily shut the door gently. She rolled her eyes at her mum. "Some professional demeanour they had."

Her mother was busy examining the bag of Floo powder the workers had left on the mantel. "Oh, Lily, there's no need to take things so personally. I'm sure they were just as interested in us as we were in them." She took a pinch of Flood powder and rolled it between her thumb and fingers.

"Careful with that," said Lily. "One wrong syllable and you'll end up in Barcelona instead of Birmingham."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," said her mum, sighing wistfully. Lily grinned.

That Thursday, Lily had her first shift at St Mungo's. At precisely half-six in the morning, she stepped into the green flames crackling in her fireplace. "St Mungo's," she said, stifling a yawn. The flames roared, and her stomach lurched violently as she spun downwards, into the Floo Network.

Floo Powder was technically Lily's favourite means of travel by magic, but that didn't mean she _enjoyed_ it. She didn't see why every magical method of transportation had to feel like you were riding a particularly unpleasant roller coaster. After a dizzying amount of twists and turns, she stumbled, coughing, into a large waiting room.

The room was packed with witches and wizards, all sporting an astonishing array of ailments. Some sat quietly in the many rows of wooden chairs, while others paced about the room, wailing. In one corner, a whole family of partially-Transfigured Veela huddled together, blinking their birdlike eyes and clawing at their beaks. Healers in lime green robes strode from patient to patient, examining them. One woman appeared to be made of snow, and several Healers were placing blocks of ice around her in an effort to keep her from melting.

Lily tried not to stare as she made her way through the waiting room. As she approached the front desk, she nearly unbalanced a wizard whose bottom half had been replaced by a large spinning top.

"Sorry, sorry…" she said, steadying him. The man responded in a language she didn't understand. Lily gave him an apologetic smile and turned to the front desk, which was marked _Inquiries_.

Behind the desk sat a bored-looking witch with slightly pointed ears. She was taking notes as an elderly wizard who had nothing obviously wrong with him explained his predicament.

"… Me back was never the same after that, which is why, in sixty-two—"

"Nineteen sixty-two?" interrupted the pointy-eared witch.

"Eighteen sixty-two, marm. Anyway, it all started on me brother Mydan's birthday — t'were an unusually rainy day for summer, I'll tell you that, I still remember…"

The pointy-eared witch noticed Lily and quieted the man with a bored wave of her hand. "Can I help you?"

"I think so," said Lily. She glanced at the emblem of St Mungo's — a wand and bone, crossed — that was pinned to the witch's robes. "I'm Lily Evans, I'm supposed to be apprenticing with Healer Fenwick. Did Madam Pomfrey send an owl?"

The witch shuffled through a stack of papers sitting on her desk. "Lily Evans… yes, I think I remember, Poppy mentioned an apprentice over the Christmas holidays…" She ran a finger down a piece of parchment. "Right, here you are. Everything looks to be in order, then. This week Fenwick is covering on the second floor — Magical Bugs, where we treat infectious diseases, you know… Look for the Camille Grenoille ward, it'll be on the left."

"Brilliant, thanks," said Lily. As she slipped away from the desk, the elderly wizard at the front of the queue continued his monologue, oblivious to the sighs of the people behind him.

A rickety staircase, lit only by the occasional brazier, led to the second-floor corridor. Massive oil paintings of formidable-looking Healers lined the walls of the corridor, occasionally interspersed with doors leading to funny-sounding wards. Lily passed a door covered in lichen marked _Fungal Fevers_. Further down the corridor was another door, which was bolted shut and bound with many sets of chains. At last, she arrived at a plain-looking door marked _Camille Grenoille Ward: Contagious Diseases_.

Lily tried the handle, but the door was locked. As she lifted her hand to knock, the door swung open, and a tall, gangly figure peered down at her.

Lily's first thought was that she was being examined by an astronaut; the figure wore a puffy white suit, complete with boots and gloves, and an enormous helmet made of reflective material circled his head. It looked like the outfits she'd seen Americans wearing on the telly.

"Er," said Lily. "Healer Fenwick?"

"That's the one," said a voice from under the helmet, sounding pleased. "And you are?"

"Lily Evans, sir," she said. "Here for an apprenticeship."

"Here to double my work, more like," said Healer Fenwick jovially. "And there's no need to 'sir' me. Not unless you want to make me feel old." He removed his helmet and stuck out a gloved hand for her to shake. His tan face was just as stretched out as the rest of him, and all of his features seemed lopsided. His nose was bent in several places, and even the smile he was giving her was crooked.

"It's a pleasure," Lily said, shaking his hand. "And I hope I won't slow you down _that_ much."

"Oh, you shall," said Healer Fenwick happily. "As the Healer Solomon Shem once said, show me an apprentice who merely triples my work and I will kiss the hem of his robes. Or hers, as the case may be." He jerked a thumb towards one of the portraits, where a rotund Healer with patchy blond hair was glaring pointedly at Lily. The plaque under the portrait read: _Solomon Shem, 1609-1687, Responsible for Both Creating and Resolving the Healer Shortage of the 1600s_. Lily waved at the portrait, which responded with a rude gesture.

Healer Fenwick laughed. "It's a good thing you were born in this century, eh? Anyway, to business…" He pulled out his wand and conjured a set of emerald green robes, which he handed to her. "There's a changing room at the end of the corridor. Take a right at the portrait of Dilys Derwent."

In the changing room, Lily took a couple of seconds to admire herself in the mirror. With the lime green robes, she looked every bit as professional as the Healers she had seen in the waiting room. Just below the emblem of St Mungo's on the front of her robes were the words _Lily Evans, Apprentice Healer_.

Healer Fenwick nodded approvingly as she rejoined him. "Much better. Want a protective suit?"

Lily looked sceptically at his outfit. "Do I need one?"

"Depends on who you ask," he replied. "The Healers on this floor are so used to magical bugs that they barely blink when a patient with Loser's Lurgy is admitted to the ward. As for myself, I'm not looking to come down with a hideously disfiguring case of Spattergroit — hence the protective gear."

Lily peered through the window set into the door of the ward. Inside, all the Healers and orderlies were dressed in their normal green robes. There were even a few visiting family members milling about in casual dress. "You don't think the spacesuit is… overkill?"

Healer Fenwick shrugged and jammed the helmet back over his head. "There's a reason I normally work in Artifact Accidents."

"Because you're afraid of germs?"

"Quiet, you," said Healer Fenwick as he ushered her into the ward. "My ego's fragile enough without your help."

As they entered the ward, one of the orderlies nodded at Healer Fenwick. "Your apprentice didn't want a suit, too, then, Benjy?"

"I refuse to be shamed by the likes of you, Shufflebottom," replied Healer Fenwick.

The orderly winked at Lily. "By the way," he said, addressing Healer Fenwick, "Wilhelma Widdershins says she's begun to grow pustules again, if you wouldn't mind taking a look…"

"Gladly," said Healer Fenwick. "Ready to learn, Evans?"

Lily followed behind him as he clomped down the ward. He looked like a scarecrow in a spacesuit. "Er," she said, with a look around at the beds, most of which were occupied by sleeping patients. "Sorry, but this _is_ an infectious disease ward, right?"

"Unfortunately," responded Healer Fenwick. He came to a halt beside a bed where a woman with a painful-looking pattern of boils across her face was lying. "Why do you ask?"

"I assumed the patients would be quarantined, if they were infectious."

"Ah," said Healer Fenwick. His helmeted head turned towards Lily. "No, quarantine is an outdated Muggle concept. You must be Muggle-born, then? Or a half-blood?"

"Muggle-born," said Lily fiercely, "and if that's going to be a problem —"

"Not at all!" said Healer Fenwick, sounding positively alarmed. "Sorry, sorry, should've had more tact. I'd just assumed Poppy — Madam Pomfrey — she didn't tell you…?"

"Tell me what?" Lily braced herself for another disappointing revelation about Muggle-borns. Maybe St Mungo's only hired pure-bloods. Maybe she wasn't allowed to treat certain diseases, on account of her heritage —

"Well, there's no need to look like _that_ ," said Healer Fenwick. "I've had duel training, that's all. I'm both Muggle physician and Healer, you know."

Lily's mouth dropped open. " _What_?"

"Yeah, I had integrated training," he said. "Doesn't exist anymore — too dangerous, the political climate being what it is — but having admitting privileges at the local Muggle hospital comes in dead handy sometimes. I'd assumed Poppy had told you. That's why most Hogwarts students apprentice with me, to learn a bit about Muggle Healing."

"Oh," said Lily. Her mind was still catching up to Healer Fenwick's revelation. "Well. I guess I understand why Madam Pomfrey wanted me to do my apprenticeship with you, then. I wonder why she didn't tell you I was Muggle-born?"

"She probably didn't think it was relevant," said Healer Fenwick. He spoke so casually that Lily felt something warm in her chest. Her blood status was _always_ relevant. To hear him say otherwise… It felt like hope.

"Is that where you got the spacesuit from, then?" she asked. "From the Muggles?"

Healer Fenwick winked. "Trade secret, Miss Evans." He bent over the woman with the boils and drew his wand. "Now. To answer your earlier question, wizards don't use quarantine. We have spells that work better than that." He gestured towards the patient, and Lily realized that the woman's mouth and nose were covered with a translucent film, like a soap bubble, which fluttered in and out as she breathed.

Healer Fenwick grinned at Lily's expression. "Flu Filtration Charm. Excellent for illnesses that spread through the air. We also use it when the germs are coming out the other end, but you don't want to see _that_. And of course, blood-borne diseases don't need any special precautions, provided the patient isn't actively bleeding. How're you feeling, Mrs Widdershins?"

The woman in the bed stirred, blinking blearily up at them. "Like I've been trampled by a hippogriff."

"Excellent, coming along well, then," said Healer Fenwick. He produced a clipboard from thin air and scribbled something on it, though he seemed to have a hard time holding the quill with his gloves on. "I'll be back this afternoon with your Pustule-Popping Potion, alright?"

The woman didn't respond; she had already fallen back asleep.

"One consult down, thirty-one to go," said Healer Fenwick happily. He was already moving to the next bed, where a man with purple skin was reading the _Daily Prophet_. "Alright, Mr Rackharrow? Coughed up any blackberries this morning?"

Lily followed Healer Fenwick as he worked his way down the ward, slightly in awe. She wished she had thought to bring some parchment to take notes with.

As they came to the last two beds on the ward, Healer Fenwick threw out an arm, bringing Lily to a halt. "Right," he said, "remember how I told you wizards don't use quarantine?"

The air around the two beds was shimmering. Lily could recognize a protective charm when she saw one, and judging by the haziness of the air, these beds were surrounded by a _lot_ of protective charms. "I'm guessing you used a simplified explanation so I wouldn't get confused."

"Precisely," said Healer Fenwick. He made sure the neck of his suit was fully zipped. "Unlike Muggle doctors, Healers don't lock patients up in single rooms as if they're in Azkaban. But there are certain diseases — generally very rare and extremely deadly — that are spread by touch."

Lily squinted, trying to get a better view of the two patients behind the protective charms. Both looked to be elderly, and they were lying so still in their beds that at first Lily thought they were dead. As she looked closer, her stomach churned. The patients barely seemed human; their skin looked like it was sloughing off, and their faces were covered in green scales.

"We're calling it dragonpox," said Healer Fenwick, his voice suddenly much more serious. "The first cases appeared in Hungary a few centuries ago, but it's only recently made its way to Britain. It's extremely contagious — the scales are infective, see. Deadly enough when a young person gets it, but at their age… "

"Oh," said Lily in a small voice. She had only seen true sickness once, with Regulus Black. Even with her lack of experience, she could tell that these two patients were very ill indeed. "Can they — I mean, is there a treatment?"

"There is, but it only works if you take it before symptoms appear," said Healer Fenwick. "These two didn't know they'd been exposed until they started belching smoke, so treatment wasn't an option for them. All we can do now is try to keep them alive until they shed the scales."

"That's it?" asked Lily. She'd always thought Healing magic could work miracles. "There's nothing else you can do?"

"Not in this case, unfortunately. There are a few potions that can speed up the process of shedding the scales, but the side-effects are… unpleasant, to say the least. Not appropriate for these two, what with their advanced age and all."

"How long until they recover?"

"'Recover' isn't the right word," he said. "If they survive… at their age, the best we can hope for is a temporary remission. But the dragonpox will always come back, and each time it does it will be more deadly."

Lily bit her lip, her eyes on the unmoving patients. "I see."

"I'm hoping one of them will pull through," said Healer Fenwick. "At least for a while longer. They've got a son, and no other living relatives to take care of him." He sighed heavily as he gazed through the protective charms. "But then, they've never been a large family, the Potters."

* * *

James had no news from St Mungo's until the following Monday when the face of a Healer with a crooked nose and tan skin appeared in the kitchen fireplace during breakfast.

James nearly choked on his toast as he scrambled to get up from the table, but Lottie the house-elf reached the fireplace first. "Good morning, Master Healer," she squeaked, her voice trembling with emotion. "Does Master Healer bring news of the Potters?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" asked James, kneeling next to Lottie. "Are they alright?"

"'Alright' is a stretch," replied the Healer, who sounded far too flippant for James' taste. "I've got good news for you, though. Your father has begun to shed his scales, and we're predicting your mother will do the same within a few days."

"Well that's — that's great, right?" asked James. Sirius bent beside him and put a hand on James' shoulder.

Green flames licked up the sides of the Healer's head as he nodded. "If they continue to improve, I daresay you'll be able to visit within the week. Your parents are made of strong stuff."

"Of course they are," said James proudly. "They're the best."

Lottie wiped away a tear, an expression of relief on her tiny face. "Master Healer will tell Lottie when we is allowed to visit?"

"'Course," said the Healer. His eyes roamed over the table, which was laid out with breakfast. "I don't reckon you can spare any food to feed a growing Healer, can you?"

"Master Healer can have whatever he wants!" squealed Lottie, and she pushed an armful of sausages into the fire.

The Healer, looking pleased, glanced down at something they couldn't see. "Cheers, thanks." There was a popping sound as his head vanished from the fire.

A couple of days later, the Healer reappeared in the fireplace, true to his word. "Come on over," he said, smiling crookedly. "It'll be another week or so before they're well enough to leave, but they're awake and no longer contagious."

"Oh, thank God," said Sirius as James and Lottie hugged each other. "I'll get the Floo powder, yeah?"

They managed to Floo to St Mungo's within the hour. They tumbled into the packed waiting room and bypassed the queue entirely in favour of rushing up the stairs. "This way, this way!" urged Lottie as they reached the second-floor corridor, and James followed her without hesitation. House-elf magic was so different from human magic that James was certain that Lottie somehow knew exactly where his parents were.

Lottie skidded to a halt next to a large painting of a fat blond Healer and rapped on the door of the adjacent ward. "Lottie the House-Elf, James Potter, and Sirius Black!" she cried shrilly. "We is here to see Fleamont and Euphemia Potter!"

The door swung open, and Lottie raced inside. James followed her at a jog while Sirius brought up the rear, his hands in his pockets.

"Potter, did you say?" asked an orderly with four blonde pigtails that stuck out of her head at odd angles. "They'll be the beds at the end, there…"

James nodded his thanks and continued to jog down the ward. Lottie had somehow reached the beds already and was speaking earnestly to a female Healer with dark red hair who was examining James' father. The Healer glanced up as James approached, and he froze mid-stride.

" _Evans?_ " he asked as Sirius collided into his back.

Lily looked guilty for some reason. "Erm, Potter, hi…"

"Do you two know each other?" asked Fleamont Potter from his bed. He propped himself gingerly on his elbows, wincing, and Lily adjusted the pillow behind his back.

"Yeah, I — we —" spluttered James. " _Dad_."

Fleamont Potter smiled, and James rushed forward to hug him. His father felt so frail under his arms — it was like he was made of parchment and bone. He felt so _old_.

"I love you," muttered James as his father's thin arms encircled him. "I'm so glad you're alright."

James' father stroked his hair, which did nothing to smooth it down. "I love you, too, son."

Sirius and Lily exchanged glances. "Er," said Sirius awkwardly. "Hi, Fleamont."

Fleamont Potter looked up. "There's my second son!" He gestured for Sirius to join the hug.

Lily cleared her throat. "I'll, erm, leave you to it. If you need anything, Fleamont, I'll be — or someone will, anyway — you can just call, and…" She ran off before finishing her sentence.

James wasn't paying attention; he was too busy examining his father critically. "You've lost weight. Are they feeding you? Do the house-elves here know how you like your breakfast?"

"Lottie will speak to them!" said Lottie sternly. "Lottie will be very cross if they isn't taking care of Master Potter how they should —"

In the other bed, Euphemia Potter sat up slowly, bringing her legs cautiously over the side of the bed. "The food here is fine, Lottie," she chided as James ran into her arms. "How are you, my son?"

"I'm fine." James' voice was muffled. His mother still smelled like vanilla. "How're _you_? You're what's important, that nutter of a Healer said you nearly _died_ —"

"Oh, tosh," said Fleamont Potter, shaking his head dismissively. "We're just fine, aren't we? A few more days and we'll be right as rain."

"We've been more concerned about _you_ ," said Euphemia. She held James at arm's length, looking him up and down. "Are you sure you're alright? Lily told us about what happened on the Hogwarts Express —"

James blinked. So his parents were on first-name terms with Lily Evans, now? "That — that was nothing, not compared to what you've been through —"

" _Nothing_?" said his father loudly. "That's not what Lily told us."

James flinched. "What did she say, exactly?"

"She told us that you saved her life," said Euphemia, taking his hand. "She said you hid her and another Muggle-born girl under the Invisibility Cloak when the Dark Lord's followers were searching your compartment."

"Your ancestors would be so proud," added Fleamont. "Ignatus Peverell himself couldn't have found a better use for the Cloak. Hiding from Death, indeed!"

James shoved his glasses roughly up the bridge of his nose, not sure what to say. He was used to his parents doting on him — that was their default relationship — but this was different. They were looking at him as if he'd done something incredible. Something heroic. "It's nothing," he managed at last. "You would have done the same, both of you."

"Let us hope we never have to find out," replied Fleamont.

Euphemia squeezed James' hand. "How are you feeling, otherwise? Lily said you were quite shaken by the ordeal."

"Healer Fenwick has excellent contacts in the Psychic Damage ward upstairs," added Fleamont. "He has assured us it would be no problem to have you examined, if you feel —"

"That's not — I'm _fine_ , I promise!" said James. "There were Healers who examined us after — while we were still on the train, I mean... I had to take a couple of potions for a while, but I'm fine now. Really."

Euphemia looked like she didn't believe him, but wasn't going to argue the point. "You'll let us know if you feel something is wrong, won't you?"

"Of course," said James. "Sirius, tell them —" He broke off, looking around. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

Fleamont frowned. "I didn't notice him leave…"

"Probably went for a smoke," said James. "Bad Muggle habit of his. I'll go find him. You two _stay put_." He gave his parents a stern look, as if they were plotting to vanish the moment he turned his back.

He nearly bumped into Lily as he was leaving the ward. "Erm, sorry, Evans," he said, steadying her. "You haven't seen Sirius, have you?"

"Yeah, I have, actually," said Lily. "He was muttering something about needing a fag."

"Brilliant," said James. "Thanks."

"That's quite alright," said Lily. Her voice sounded very high-pitched and not at all like her usual self.

They looked at each other for a moment.

"Actually —" said James, at the same time Lily said, "I meant to say —"

They paused.

"Go ahead," said James.

"No, that's alright. You were saying?"

James let out an exasperated sigh, glancing around the ward. At the far end of the room, his parents were very obviously watching them. "Alright, come on, then," he said at last, and he grabbed her by the sleeve and dragged her out of the ward and into the corridor.

Lily snatched her sleeve out of James' grasp as soon as the door swung shut behind them. "What's this about, then?"

"Why'd you tell my parents I saved your life?" countered James.

"Er," said Lily, "because it's the truth?"

"No, it isn't."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Lily. "I didn't realize there was another term for when you keep someone from being killed."

"Come off it," said James. "When you put it like that, it sounds —"

"…Ridiculously selfless, like something James Potter would never be capable of?"

James didn't smile. "Exactly."

Lily's expression softened. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I wanted to thank you."

"No need." James shrugged a shoulder. "You would've done the same for me."

Lily shook her head. "No. I wouldn't have."

James snorted. "Yeah, right. Do you honestly think you would've sat idly by while a bunch of lunatic Death Eaters hunted me down?"

Lily looked like she wanted to cry. "Maybe."

"Don't tell yourself that, because it's not true," said James firmly. "We might not be best mates, but I know you better than that. You would've gone after me if the situation was reversed. I'm sure of it."

Lily bit her lip. "Well. Then. Thanks for doing what anyone would've done, I suppose."

"That's more like it," said James, and the tightness in his chest eased up a bit. He wasn't sure he could have taken much more of being treated like a hero. "And thank you, I guess."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For being there for my parents when they were ill. Seems like you took good care of them."

Lily flushed. "Oh, no — I'm only an apprentice, I don't do anything important…"

"You keep telling yourself that, Evans," said James.

"I'm not _telling_ myself anything, it's the truth —" Lily broke off. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I'm not," said James innocently. "You're cute when you're trying to be modest, you know that, Evans? Haven't seen that side of you very often, considering you're always showing off at Hogwarts during lessons —"

"' _Showing off'_? That's rich, coming from you. Who was it that jumped on his desk during History of Magic and shouted about how he could recite _A Ballad of Goblin Warfare_ by heart?"

"I did, obviously," said James. "But you were the one that corrected my second verse, as only a true show-off would —"

"It was the third verse, actually, but that's only because no ancient goblin ballad would rhyme 'grassy knoll' with 'bung —' "

There was a rap on the window set into the door, and they sprang apart. Healer Fenwick was grinning at them on the other side of the glass. He pointed to Lily and James, then formed a heart with his hands.

"I don't like that Healer," muttered James.

"You don't _like_ him?" said Lily, whose face had gone scarlet. "He's the reason your parents are _alive_ —"

Healer Fenwick pointed at Lily and tapped his watch. Then he turned and vanished into the ward.

"Looks like duty calls," said James. "I should go, too. Need to keep Sirius from polluting his lungs."

"Right," said Lily, her blush fading a little. "I guess they'll be needing me back on the ward. See you later?"

"Count on it," said James. "I'll see you around, Evans."

* * *

Sirius was on the tube, sandwiched between a man with a long beard and an overweight woman in a floral dress, when he felt a burning sensation coming from the pocket of his jeans.

He sighed loudly, earning him a disapproving look from the woman, and pulled the two-way mirror out of his pocket. "Yes?"

"Pads." James' face in the mirror was backlit by the braziers that lit the corridors of St Mungo's. "Where are you?"

"Went for a smoke."

James squinted, shoving his glasses up his nose. "Really? 'Cause it looks to me like you're on the tube. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," said Sirius brusquely. "Look, don't worry about me, okay? Enjoy your time with your parents. I'll see you in a bit."

"A bit," repeated James. "How long, exactly, is a —"

Sirius shoved the mirror back in his pocket. The woman in the floral dress was watching him warily, as if she suspected he was mentally unbalanced. He supposed he _had_ just been having a conversation with a mirror.

As the train slowed to a stop, Sirius pretended to lunge at the woman, and she flinched. Satisfied, he jumped onto the platform before anyone could reprimand him. He ducked into a nearby alley to transform into Padfoot and paused just long enough to dig in a dustbin before trotting north.

The sun had nearly set by the time he arrived at Grimmauld Place. It looked exactly as he'd remembered it, save for the layer of fluffy snow that blanketed the garden. He slipped quietly through the bars of the cast-iron fence and slunk up to the front door. He sniffed apprehensively. From the smell of it, his parents had left not long ago and had yet to return.

There was a light flickering in one of the upstairs windows. To get on the roof, Sirius had to shift back into human form. The snow crunched beneath him as he knelt on the sloping roof, and he shivered as he tapped on the window.

After a moment, Regulus appeared at the glass. When he saw Sirius kneeling on the roof, he let out a huge sigh. Sirius gave Regulus a small wave and mimed opening the window. Regulus crossed his arms. Sirius looked at him a moment, then shrugged and drew his wand.

Regulus threw open the window and pulled Sirius inside before Sirius could blast it open.

"Finally," said Sirius, "I think I've got frostbite on my —"

"Kreacher's nearby," said Regulus, and Sirius' mouth snapped shut. Regulus pointed his wand at his bedroom door, and several clicks sounded as the door locked itself. "What're you doing here?"

Sirius strode across the room, glancing over the cutouts from the _Daily Prophet_ that were plastered on the walls. He threw open Regulus' wardrobe, searching for the good furs he'd inherited from their grandparents. "I'm moving back in, little brother. Where's the mink stole? I'm telling you, I think the cold damaged my —"

"Moving in," said Regulus flatly. Sirius could have hugged him; he'd missed his brother's composure. "Why? What changed?"

"Well," said Sirius as he wrapped himself in the mink stole and flopped onto Regulus' bed, "I don't know if you realized, but a madman attacked the Hogwarts Express and murdered several children because they'd committed the heinous crime of having Muggles for parents. Sound familiar?"

Regulus blanched. "I was there, yes."

"One of them was in Gryffindor," said Sirius conversationally. "Amy Roberts."

Regulus' knuckles were white as he gripped his desk. "Stop it."

"I didn't know her well, but she was supposedly top of her year at Warming Charms —"

"I know what you're doing. Stop it."

"She was in the Gobstones Club _and_ the recreational Quidditch league. D'you know how old she was, Reg?"

Regulus didn't respond; his eyes were fixed on his journal where it lay open on his desk.

"She was twelve." Sirius' voice was less casual now; he was nearly snarling. "Twelve, and she's dead, _dead_ , at the hands of the madman who you worship —"

"I do not _worship_ —"

"You've plastered your room with articles about him!" Sirius bounded off the bed, rapping on the walls for emphasis. "You've joined up with Mulciber and his gang —"

"I had no choice!" Regulus let out a startled cry as Sirius grabbed him by the neck of his robes, hoisting him nearly off the ground.

"You're lying to yourself. We _always_ have a choice. Always."

"Our parents," gasped Regulus. He twisted uselessly in Sirius' grasp.

"Fuck our parents. You hate them as much as I do."

"I don't hate —"

"Then you're a soft-hearted idiot," said Sirius. He flung Regulus roughly aside and turned to the journal on his desk. The journal was open to a page bearing a half-finished skull and snake, shrouded in coal-black smoke.

"Nice, Sirius," said Regulus from the ground. "Really lovely. You know who you sound like?"

"Dunno," said Sirius, flicking through the journal. "The voice of reason?"

"No," panted Regulus as he staggered to his feet. "You sound like our father."

Sirius paused. "That," he said. He took a breath. "That was not my intention."

"You're just as much of a bully as he is," said Regulus. He slid the journal out of Sirius' hands.

"I'm not — I wasn't —"

"You are," said Regulus. "Don't act like you've got some moral high ground. Severus told me what you tried to do to him last year."

Sirius groaned in frustration, running his hands through his hair. "That's — that completely beside the point, Reg. You don't know the whole story —"

Regulus shrugged. He sat on his bed and flicked through his journal until he found where he had left off. "You don't have to justify yourself to me. I'm not judging you for it. I'm just saying you're not better than Mulciber. Or our father."

"I strongly disagree."

"Good for you," said Regulus. "Why are you here, Sirius?"

Sirius leaned against the bedpost, watching Regulus smudge charcoal along the contours of the skull. "I told you. I'm moving back in."

"Why? Did the Potters kick you out, too?"

Sirius flinched. "No, they — they're ill. I figured they've got enough to be getting on with without me underfoot. Not to mention that I, er, talked to Uncle Alphard last Hogsmeade weekend."

The eyes of the skull were pools of endless black. "And?"

"He reckons I ought to accept my position as heir, make sure the family money goes to the right people. He, erm, wasn't too keen on the idea of you using the Black fortune to bolster the Dark Lord's coffers."

Regulus' hand stilled. The stick of charcoal hovered over the paper. "Ah."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I told him to shove it at the time — thought he was just after what I could do for him. But now, after the whole Hogwarts Express thing, well…"

Regulus' posture was so straight it looked uncomfortable. "You think he has a point."

"I do, funnily enough," said Sirius. "Nothing good is going to come from you inheriting the family fortune. No offence."

Regulus pressed his charcoal to the paper so hard the tip snapped off. "Do you really think I'm so devoted to the Dark Lord and his cause that making me the heir would be dangerous? You think I'm that much of a sycophant?"

"Er," said Sirius. He looked at the articles from the _Prophet_ that were plastered to the walls. "Yeah, I do. Sorry."

Regulus said nothing for a moment. Then he thrust his journal towards Sirius. "Look towards the back."

Sirius took the journal and opened it hesitantly. He flipped past a few sketches of the Hogwarts founders until he came to a page covered in drawings of what appeared to be medieval torture implements. Sirius recognized them as instruments their father had collected for years — spiked maces and hideous iron clamps meant for pulling things apart.

"I'm confused," he said. "Why did you do an art study on our father's most prized possessions?"

"I didn't." Regulus lowered his voice and leaned forward until his head was nearly touching Sirius'. For a moment, it was like they were ten years younger and plotting how to convince Kreacher to serve them extra pudding. "These aren't drawings." He touched his wand to the paper, and the sketches _moved_ , drawn to the wand as if it were a magnet. Carefully, Regulus pulled his wand upwards, and a spiked mace lifted out of the pages of the journal, dangling on the tip of the wand like a fish on a hook.

Sirius stared. " _What_?"

"Great-Uncle Harfang was an artist," said Regulus. "This spell was hidden in his book of art that Father keeps in the library." He rotated his wand, and the mace twisted with it. "As a result, things have been mysteriously vanishing from Father's study since the summer. He's been quite perplexed. Hard to discipline Kreacher without his favourite tools, you see." With a flick of his wand, the mace sank back into the pages of the journal, a mere drawing once more.

"Godric's mane, Reg," said Sirius, "You've got a weird amount of love for Kreacher, I'll give you that much. If Father ever finds out…"

Regulus lifted his pointed chin. "I know the risks. I'm not an idiot. And I'm not — _not_ — a mindless follower of the Dark Lord. I know good from evil."

"Then _why?_ Why are you on their side?" Sirius hated the desperate, pleading note in his voice. He never begged. "They treat _human beings_ worse than Father's ever done Kreacher —"

"I don't expect you to understand," said Regulus, picking up his charcoal.

"Explain it to me, then."

Regulus was silent for nearly five minutes as he finished sketching the skull. "My only goal is to survive the war," he said at last. "Their side's simply offering better odds."

* * *

Later that evening, Sirius went to his room and unpacked his belongings, clinging to the improbable hope that Uncle Alphard's Memory Charms had faded. Maybe he wouldn't have to live at Grimmauld Place again after all. Maybe when his parents came home they would be furious, forcing him to run away again. He could tell Uncle Alphard that he'd tried to do the right thing, but it just hadn't worked out.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Uncle Alphard was skilled at Obliviation; when Sirius' parents returned home, his mother cried with joy to see him slouching against the bannister of the stairs. As she embraced him, the last of Sirius' hope that he wouldn't have to live with his family again faded.

Once she had dried her tears, Walburga Black summoned Kreacher, who whipped up a feast for dinner. Sirius did his best to act hungry. Orion Black was more reserved in his affections, but the next morning he invited Sirius into his study, showing him the thick rolls of parchment that contained the details of the household investments. Just like that, Sirius began to adjust to a new routine, one that consisted of breakfast with his mother and Regulus in the morning and Floo calls to Gringotts in the afternoon.

He absolutely hated it.

"I need a fag," he moaned one evening, throwing himself onto Regulus' bed.

Regulus was perched on a stool in the middle of the room, working on a life-size painting of their mother that she had inexplicably commissioned. "Close the door, will you?"

Sirius complied. Regulus pulled out his wand and pointed it at his bureau. One of its drawers slid open, and his journal flew out of the drawer and through the air. It landed in Sirius' hands, opening itself up to a page containing a drawing of a carton of cigarettes. The carton rose from the pages of the journal long enough for Sirius to grab a cigarette.

"Brilliant spell, that," said Sirius. He lit the tip of the cigarette with his wand and took a deep drag.

Regulus returned his attention to the painting."What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Your muse, for one," said Sirius, jerking his head towards the canvas. "I spent the past two hours bartering with Eldridge Borgin over a cursed kettle Mum would like to have."

Regulus' nose twitched. "I've never liked Borgin."

"That makes two of us." Sirius exhaled, sending a plume of smoke into the air. "You don't happen to know any Dark magic that predicts a person's deathday, do you? Uncle Alphard gives our parents a decade till they pop their clogs, but I'm hoping it'll be sooner."

"There are a few ways to figure out a deathday, actually," said Regulus. "Nothing you'd be willing to partake in, though."

"Don't assume that about me."

"Alright. How do you feel about slaughtering a virgin during the new moon?"

"Depends on the virgin," said Sirius. "Snivellus wouldn't be a problem. Anyone else, though…"

Regulus looked like he was biting back a smile. "That's what I thought."

The holidays at Grimmauld Place passed dramatically, as they were wont to do. On Christmas Eve, Kreacher reported to Walburga that Regulus' room smelled of smoke, which led to her discovering the contents of Regulus' journal. Unfortunately, she was familiar with Great-Uncle Harfang's methods for hiding things, so the cigarettes were summarily Vanished and the medieval tools were returned to their rightful place in Orion's study.

On Christmas Day, Walburga forbade Sirius and Regulus from spending time together unsupervised. On Boxing Day, Sirius locked himself in his room and refused to come out. Later that evening, Regulus brought a large, shaggy black dog into the parlour, informing his mother proudly that Padfoot had returned after his mysterious six-month absence, and wasn't it lovely to have the family pet back again?

On New Year's Eve, a sleek-looking raven rapped on Regulus' windowpane, clutching an envelope clutched in its beak. Regulus unlatched the window, and the bird swooped in just long enough to deposit its letter atop Padfoot's snout before soaring back out the window.

"Got mail, have you?" asked Regulus, scratching Padfoot behind the ears. "I'll open this for you. What do you think?" The dog bobbed its head, and Regulus slit the envelope open.

"'Sirius,'" he read, "'your parents tell me you've moved back in over the holidays. I am pleased to hear it and confident you've made the right choice. I've got a bit of a belated Christmas present for you, in fact — consider it a token of my appreciation. What say we meet this Sunday in the Leaky Cauldron? My treat'. It's signed from Uncle Alphard."

By the time Regulus finished reading, Sirius had shifted back to his human form, though he was laying on his stomach in the same way Padfoot had done. "Whatever Christmas present he's got for me, I don't want it."

"Are you certain?" asked Regulus. "It could be something good. Maybe he bought a Golden Goose and wants to give you one of the eggs."

Sirius snorted. "If Uncle Alphard had that kind of money, he wouldn't need me to play nice with our parents."

"Fair point," said Regulus. "I'll be interested to know what he gives you, then."

"Want to go in my place?"

Regulus turned back towards his painting of Walburga. There was a hint of a smile on his face. "Not on your life."

That Sunday, Sirius unlatched Regulus' window and snuck out of Grimmauld Place while his parents were occupied with the gift Padfoot had left them on the drawing room rug. It was a short walk to the nearest tube station, and he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron feeling proud for having mastered Muggle transportation.

The pub was nearly empty, which Sirius supposed was just a sign of the times. Not too many people cared to stop for a drink when there was a war on. He raised a hand in greeting to Tom, the barkeep, and scanned the darkly lit pub for Uncle Alphard.

His uncle wasn't hard to find; he was seated in a dimly lit corner booth beside a slender, dark-robed figure who was holding a long, thin cigar. A line smoke rose lazily from the tip of the cigar and formed a thick grey cloud around the figure's head. The cloud of smoke obscured the figure so completely that Sirius couldn't tell if they were a man or a woman. Probably one of Uncle Alphard's friends — he'd always kept strange company.

"Happy Christmas, Uncle Alphard," said Sirius, taking a seat. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

"Not at all." Uncle Alphard inclined his head in greeting. "I'm glad you could join us — I was worried your parents would prevent you from leaving Grimmauld Place."

"They keep me on a tight leash," said Sirius, grinning at his own joke.

Uncle Alphard returned Sirius' smile. "Do I need to have a word with my sister? They ought to allow you some freedoms… I would be happy to step in if they are being too restrictive."

"Nah, Mum's fine," said Sirius. "Batty as ever, but that's her baseline. I'm telling you, though, if my parents live a single day longer than ten years…"

"…Then I personally will dispatch a team of Aurors to finish the job," said Uncle Alphard. The figure next to him laughed, sending swirling patterns through the cloud of smoke around their head.

Sirius squinted, trying to see through the smoke, but it was no use. "I don't think we've met," he said at last, stretching his hand across the table. "I'm Alphard's nephew — Sirius Black."

The figure shook back a sleeve and extended a hand towards Sirius. Their skin was a deep, cool brown. The colour made Sirius' hand look like it belonged to an Inferius in comparison.

"This is a colleague of mine," said Uncle Alphard. "A member of Dumbledore's resistance — the Order, if you will."

"Brilliant," said Sirius. "The smoke's a privacy charm, I assume?"

"Something like that," replied the figure, whose voice was distinctly feminine. "I have to be careful in certain spaces." She waved a hand in front of her face, and the cloud of smoke parted slightly. Sirius caught a glimpse of fluffy dark hair, mischievous eyes, and a gap between her front teeth as she smiled —

Sirius jumped out of his seat, reaching for his wand. "If you've laid _one hand_ on her — If you've Obliviated her, I swear to God I'll —" He froze mid-sentence as his muscles seized abruptly in place.

Uncle Alphard leaned forward and plucked Sirius' wand out of his rigid hand. He placed the wand carefully on the table and glanced around at the patrons of the pub, who were looking their way curiously. "Let me offer you a deal, Sirius. You refrain from making a scene, and I will lift the Full-Body Bind I have placed upon you so that we all may converse a little more freely. Are we agreed?"

Sirius wanted nothing better than to tell Uncle Alphard where he could stick his wand. He tried to glare at his uncle, which was largely ineffective, considering he didn't have use of his facial muscles. Uncle Alphard smiled serenely back.

" _Mmmph_ ," said Sirius at last.

Uncle Alphard brightened. "Excellent. I thought you'd come around." He muttered the countercurse, and Sirius' muscles relaxed. He collapsed into his seat, his legs weak, and dared to glance at the girl — the witch? — beside Uncle Alphard. Her face was hidden again, completely obscured by smoke.

"Now," said Uncle Alphard, "I believe some re-introductions are necessary. Sirius Black, allow me to introduce my fellow Order member, Dorcas Meadowes. Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black."

* * *

 **A/N:** If anyone caught the _House of God_ references, good on ya. :) Until next time!


	26. Found and Lost

"You're a witch," said Sirius. "Merlin's bleeding arse. How can you be a witch? You were lying to me? All this time, I've been worried sick, but you — you made it out of Grimmauld Place in one piece. Of course you did, because you're a _witch_."

Dorcas' face was hidden behind the cloud of smoke, but she drummed her fingers on the table as he spoke. "No," she said when he had finished. "I'm not a witch."

That was even more confusing. "What —" said Sirius. "Then _how_ —"

"Perhaps," said Uncle Alphard, rolling his wand between his fingers, "we would be better served by speaking privately." Dorcas nodded and tapped her cigar against the table. Smoke rose from the cigar's tip to obscure her face while Uncle Alphard muttered a string of privacy charms. Sirius felt like his ears had been stuffed with cotton as the privacy charms settled over the table like a blanket.

"Right," said Sirius to Dorcas once Uncle Alphard had finished. "You're not a witch. Are you a Squib, then?"

Dorcas shook her head. "I'm a Muggle, Sirius. I'd never heard of magic before I met you."

Sirius jabbed a finger at Uncle Alphard. "But this git says you're a member of the Order. So you're fighting the Dark Lord, then? How is that possible, if you're not a witch?"

Dorcas paused, angling her body towards Uncle Alphard. "It's a long story."

"I've got time," said Sirius. "You can start at the beginning. I want to know what happened after Kreacher took you back."

Dorcas nodded. "He — Kreacher — grabbed me, and the next thing I knew, I was in my bedroom. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. So I went back to Grimmauld Place —"

"You did _not_ —"

The cloud of smoke around Dorcas' head swirled angrily. "Well, I wanted to be sure you were alright! It was strange, though — when I went back, there was a creepy-looking house that I'd never seen before. Black front door, with a silver door knocker in the shape of a snake..."

"Yeah, that's Number Twelve," said Sirius, surprised. "My family's house. You could see it?"

"Yeah," said Dorcas. "I guess the secrecy charms didn't work on me anymore, since I'd been inside. I knew that that house had to be yours, but I didn't dare knock on the door — I'm not an idiot. Instead, I hid in the park across the street and waited to see if you would show up."

She paused as Tom the barkeep placed three streaming mugs of Butterbeer on their table. As he shuffled off, she continued. "I was there ages — started to think I'd imagined the whole thing, the street was so quiet. It was nearly midnight when _he_ arrived." She gestured towards Uncle Alphard. "There was a loud noise — it sounded like a gun had gone off, and I thought your family might've shot you or something, but then _he_ appeared on the pavement. He went inside Number Twelve, and I stayed in the park. A few hours later, he came out and I saw him disappear — Apparate, I mean." The smoke drifted lazily around her head as she spoke, swirling with every breath she took. "That's when I knew I hadn't gone mad. Magic was real, and I'd just seen a man disappear into thin air. I went back to the park every day for a week after that. I had questions, thought maybe you'd come out. But I never saw you, or anyone else."

Sirius groaned. "I'm such an idiot. I searched for _you_ in London, must've spent weeks looking. But I never went back to Grimmauld Place, because — well, you know why. I should've known you were there the whole time, looking for me."

"Not the whole time," said Uncle Alphard smoothly. "Dorcas here changed tactics after growing tired of casing Grimmauld Place."

Sirius tensed. "I don't like the way you put that."

"Yes," said Uncle Alphard, "well, her intentions were good, but —"

"I can speak for myself, you know," said Dorcas. Her expression was hidden behind the cloud of smoke, but she sounded embarrassed.

"Please do," said Uncle Alphard. He leaned back in his seat, one hand still on his wand. "I'm interested to hear why you thought going into the Leaky Cauldron and asking after the Black family was a brilliant idea."

"No," said Sirius immediately.

Dorcas's voice was sheepish. "Er. Yes."

Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Isn't this pub supposed to be hidden from Muggles? How did you even find it?"

"I figured there had to be more magical people in London," said Dorcas. "Your family couldn't have been the only ones — not in _London_ , after all. So I started following people who seemed — funny. Strangely dressed, or using odd words. There were loads of dead ends, but eventually I saw a man go into a pub that appeared out of nowhere, like your house had. One moment it wasn't there, and the next it was. So I just… followed the man inside."

"It didn't take an Auror to figure out she didn't belong," said Uncle Alphard. "She went right up to old Tom and asked if he'd heard of the Black family. He had, of course — everybody in wizarding Britain knows our surname — so he poured her a drink and asked her what she wanted to know. She got quite a bit of information out of him, too, or so I'm told. The real problem came when it was time for her to pay."

Sirius groaned. "You gave him Muggle money?"

"I hadn't realized!" said Dorcas.

Uncle Alphard smiled wryly. "It dawned on Tom that something wasn't quite right when she placed a five pound note in his hand. He phoned the Improper Use of Magic Office — told them a Muggle girl was in the Leaky Cauldron, asking about the Blacks." His smile grew wider. "My boss thought it fitting that I be the one to Obliviate her."

Sirius' head was starting to ache. "What were you _thinking_?" he asked Dorcas. "I _told_ you there are people who would make you forget! What did you expect to happen?"

"Well, I _didn't_ forget, did I?"

"Clearly," said Sirius. "Why?"

"I took her to one of the vacant rooms above the Leaky Cauldron to Obliviate her," said Uncle Alphard. "We started talking."

"Talking," said Sirius, crossing his arms. "Do you usually _talk_ to your victims?"

"I recognized her," said Uncle Alphard, ignoring Sirius' question. "From your parent's memories."

Sirius gripped his arms so tightly his skin was turning white. "The memories you Obliviated."

"Yes," said Uncle Alphard. "The memories I removed for your benefit."

Sirius snorted. "Some benefit. So what did you two talk about? Did you swap horror stories about my parents?"

"Hardly," said Uncle Alphard. "You should have seen her — dressed in black robes, a false wand at her hip. She looked every bit the young witch. If she hadn't been asking after the Blacks, nobody would have been the wiser. Not only that, but she found her way into the Leaky Cauldron — very tricky thing for a Muggle to do without help. I was impressed."

"He offered me a job," said Dorcas smugly.

Sirius nearly leapt out of his seat; he banged his leg against the underside of the table and swore. "He offered you a WHAT?"

"Not a Ministry job, if that's what you're thinking," said Uncle Alphard. He glanced around at the pub and leaned in closer, his fingers curling around his wand. "I thought someone like her could be of great use to the Order. And she has been."

He _had_ to be joking. "That," said Sirius through gritted teeth, "is _so much worse_ than a job with the Ministry."

"It's not," said Dorcas defensively. "Alphard explained the situation a bit — about the Dark wizard, and his followers — and I told him that of course I wanted to fight back." She sat up a little straighter. "The Death Eaters are going after people like me, aren't they? Why _shouldn't_ I be a part of the resistance?"

"Er, let me think," said Sirius. "Maybe because you could _die_?" He couldn't believe he had to spell this out for her.

"But Dorcas hasn't died," said Uncle Alphard smoothly. "She's been an invaluable asset so far. I brought her along today because I thought you might be interested in knowing that she was alive."

"I _am_ interested," said Sirius, "but you could have sent an owl. You could have Floo-called, instead of doing this song and dance about _sensitive information_ and _meeting in person…"_ He raked his hands roughly through his hair. "God, I can't believe _I'm_ the voice of reason here, you don't know how weird this feels —"

Uncle Alphard didn't look at all offended. "That's the nature of the Black family tree. We each believe the other branches are more tangled than our own."

"Cute," said Sirius. He turned towards Dorcas. "I realize my uncle didn't write on account of being from the looney bin, but what's _your_ excuse? Surely you know how our post works by now. You could've owled — said you were okay —"

"Er," said Dorcas. She sounded faintly embarrassed, but it was impossible to tell if she was blushing behind the cloud of smoke. "Look, there's no way to say this without sounding like a prat, yeah, but I was told that communicating with wizards outside the Order could compromise the integrity of our mission."

"You _do_ sound like a prat," said Sirius with a smirk. "Remind me again what the mission of your precious Order is? Fighting evil side-by-side with Dumbledore? No offence, but I don't see how he could have much use for someone who can't even do magic —"

"— Then you are small-minded indeed," said Uncle Alphard. He placed a few Sickles on the table and stood up. "If you two are going to discuss the Order in more depth, I would ask that you do it in Muggle London — _away_ from prying ears."

Sirius looked around the pub, which was practically empty. Even Tom the barkeep appeared to be taking a nap behind the counter. "Suit yourself," he said. "Dorcas, fancy a stroll along the Thames?"

"Why not, weirdo," said Dorcas, pulling on her coat. "We still have some catching up to do."

"Find me in in Diagon Alley once you have finished," said Uncle Alphard, addressing Dorcas. "I have business there I must attend to. You know how to contact me. Sirius, I must bid you farewell."

Sirius fought the urge to snicker as Uncle Alphard swept away. His family was so _dramatic_.

"Want me to pay for these?" he asked Dorcas, indicating the half-drunk mugs of Butterbeer. "Or have you figured out how Galleons work?"

"Very funny," said Dorcas. "I seem to remember you having similar troubles with banknotes at the ice cream parlour last summer."

Sirius placed a few Sickles on the table. "Touché."

It was snowing lightly as they stepped onto the bustling street. Dorcas put out her cigar, and the cloud of smoke slowly drifted away from her face. "Cute toy," said Sirius, nodding at the cigar. "Thought you didn't smoke, though."

Dorcas grinned at him. He'd missed the gap between her teeth. "I don't. It's only for show. Works well, though, doesn't it?"

"It does," said Sirius. "Wizarding Britain's full of nutters trying to disguise themselves, you blend right in." They turned down a side street and he surreptitiously cast a Warming Charm on both of them.

"I'm not fighting the Dark Lord, you know," said Dorcas once they were out of earshot of any passersby. "That's not what the Order's about."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's the Ministry's job to keep You-Know-Who and his followers at bay. They're the fighters. The Order is more concerned with gathering information and keeping people safe. Muggles and Muggle-borns, specifically."

"So you don't fight?"

"Of course not. What good would I be in a duel against the Death Eaters? I help with… finding things. Safe housing in Muggle London for people who need it. Or locating Squibs and Muggle-borns who are trying to live as Muggles, who might want extra protection. The Order does things like that. Not fighting."

She led him to a zebra crossing. Sirius tried not to stare at the cars — there were so many cars! — as they crossed. Dorcas laughed at his expression. "Still fascinated by motors, are you?"

"Ah," said Sirius, coming to a halt. He suddenly felt guilty. "That reminds me. Your motorbike…"

"My father's motorbike."

Sirius winced. "Right. The motorbike that belonged to your dearly departed father… I took it."

"I noticed," said Dorcas cooly. They'd reached the street along the river, and Sirius wished the frigid water would swallow him up.

"I can give it back," he said. "It's at Hogwarts, but I could borrow a dozen owls, maybe, and send it to you. Only one problem, though."

"Which is?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "It flies now."

"Exclusively?"

"Pretty much. Lifts off the ground at any gear above first."

Dorcas sighed. "You shouldn't have —"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" protested Sirius. "It was accidental magic. I was trying to get away from Grimmauld Place and it just… happened."

Dorcas said nothing. Sirius felt disappointment radiating from her so strongly he doubted they needed the Warming Charm.

They passed under a large bridge held up by steel cables and Muggle ingenuity, and Dorcas finally spoke. "You can have the bike."

"I don't want it," said Sirius, which was a lie; he'd never wanted anything more in all his life.

"It's fine," said Dorcas. "I've got no use for a flying motorbike. We Muggles can't fall more than about three metres without seriously injuring ourselves, you know."

Sirius wasn't sure how tall a metre was, but three of anything didn't sound very impressive. "I'm sorry," he said, but apologizing didn't make him feel any less rotten. "I'm really sorry. I know the bike was important to you. I could buy you another…"

"I don't want another," said Dorcas. "It's alright. Really. I have other things to remember my father by."

They walked in silence along the river. Sirius had thought he'd missed her, but now that they were together there was distance between them, and that distance grew wider with every lull in the conversation. Somehow, by joining the wizarding world, she'd grown apart from him, instead of closer.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said, because he didn't know what else to say and the silence was so loud that he needed to say _something_. "I thought about you a lot, when I was at school."

Dorcas smiled. The light from the street lamp overhead shone off the curve of her cheek. "I thought about you a lot, too. Alphard kept me informed of his plans for you. I was surprised to hear you went back to your family — I honestly didn't expect you to actually listen to him."

"Me neither," said Sirius. "But after what happened on the Hogwarts Express…" He trailed off. The water of the Thames shimmered with light from street lamps and boats and buildings. Muggles had built this city out of nothing. Who knew what they would be capable of, if they had just an ounce of magic? Small wonder Lord Voldemort was terrified of them.

"I should go," said Dorcas, checking her watch. "Alphard and I have a meeting at six."

"Oh," said Sirius. "Alright. Need to take a bus, or…?"

"Nah," said Dorcas, and she pulled a carton of cigarettes out of her robes.

"You carry around a lot of tobacco for someone who doesn't smoke."

She flashed him a smile. "They're Portkeys."

"You're _joking_."

She opened the lid of the carton so he could see. Twenty-four white cigarettes, neatly arranged in rows, were nestled inside. "There's one for every hour of the day," she explained. "Each leads to a secure location — Order headquarters, meeting spots, that sort of thing. Good for getting around quickly, and useful if I land in a bind, too. Can't say I enjoy the sensation of travelling by Portkey though."

"That's brilliant," said Sirius. "Your idea?"

"Of course," said Dorcas. "The other people in the Order are very good about helping me enchant things that could be useful. They don't mind that I'm a Muggle at all. I've got loads of stuff like this, to keep me safe and to help with missions."

She pulled out what looked like a deck of playing cards and handed one to him.

"Use this if you ever need to contact me. Most Order members communicate via Patronus, but that's a problem for me, obviously. We came up with this as a solution."

Sirius turned over the card, which featured a regal woman and a leaf-like symbol in the corner. They'd studied playing cards in Muggle Studies, but it took him a moment to recall the different suits. "This one… the queen of clubs?"

"Good job," said Dorcas, pleased. "Say my name if you need me, and we'll be able to talk through the card. The clubs symbol at the top acts as a sort of compass, too; instead of pointing towards north, it'll point to me. Useful if we ever need to find each other."

Sirius pocketed the card, thinking privately that Dorcas had invented a better method of communication than the mirror he and James used. "Got it, thanks. Guess I'll be seeing you, then?"

"Probably," said Dorcas. "Unless your parents strangle you, or the Death Eaters get to me first."

"I _wish_ they'd strangle me," said Sirius. "That'd put me out of my suffering."

Dorcas laughed. "I'm glad to see you again," she said. "Take good care of that bike, alright?"

Sirius nodded. Dorcas pulled a cigarette out of the carton and touched it to her lips. Immediately, she vanished into thin air, and Sirius was left alone on the pavement with only the light from the street lamps and the gentle lapping of the water for company.

* * *

On Tuesday, Lily had her last shift at St. Mungo's. Healer Fenwick, still in his spacesuit, gave her an awkward, stiff-armed hug good-bye and promised her that he'd arrange another apprenticeship for her over the Easter holidays — and in the Artefact Accidents ward, this time.

A letter from Professor McGonagall arrived the next morning, informing her that the Hogwarts Express was out of service until the Ministry could ensure its safety, and that Lily was instead to Floo to Hogwarts at the start of the new term. So, on the last day of the winter holidays, she said good-bye to her mother and Petunia in the sitting room, while a grey-robed wizard from the Ministry hovered behind the sofa, anxious to disconnect their fireplace from the Floo Network.

Lily embraced her mother fiercely and gave Petunia an awkward little hug, then climbed into the emerald green flames. The fire flared brightly, obscuring her vision, and her stomach lurched as she was sucked into the Floo Network. It took nearly five vomit-inducing minutes to travel to Hogwarts; she caught glimpses of dozens of different grates as she spun, her body pulled this way and that. At last, she stumbled onto the carpet of Professor McGonagall's office, clutching her stomach.

Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk, checking names off a scroll of parchment. "Miss Evans. I'm glad to see you safely back at Hogwarts." Her tone was crisp and professional, but she looked as if she'd aged ten years since Lily had seen her last. Deep lines tugged the corners of her mouth downwards, and an untidy tendril of hair had escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck.

Lily stopped abruptly, her trunk banging painfully against her heels. She'd never seen Professor McGonagall look so distressed. "Professor. Are you alright?"  
"Of course I am," replied Professor McGonagall curtly.

Lily frowned. One of the students who had been killed during the attack on the Hogwarts Express had been in Gryffindor. What was her name — Amy something. Roberts, perhaps? Had Professor McGonagall had been the one to break the news to her parents?

"Professor," said Lily. "I'm so sorry about Amy. I…" Was it her imagination, or were Professor McGonagall's eyes watering?

"Thank you, Miss Evans," said Professor McGongall. "I am sorry as well." Her voice wavered.

"It wasn't your fault," said Lily softly. "Nobody could have predicted… even the rumours that were going around last term, nobody thought…" She trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

Professor McGonagall nodded stiffly. She looked absolutely exhausted. Lily wondered how many other students had said something similar upon emerging from the fireplace. "Thank you, Miss Evans. If you wouldn't mind being off; the Patils are due to arrive from London at any minute…"

Lily could take a hint. The door to Professor McGonagall's office swung gently shut behind her, and she clattered down the stairs with her trunk.

At dinner that evening, she reunited with Marlene and a relieved-looking Mary, who gave Lily an enormous squeeze as she sat down. "I'm so glad you made it back safely!" said Mary into Lily's ear.

"Same to you," replied Lily, hugging Mary tightly.

"Did your mum take a look at those papers?" asked Mary. "The ones McGonagall gave us, about the Muggle-born Protection Act?"

"Oh, yeah," said Lily. "She's doing the protective charms for now. Wasn't keen on moving to America… I don't think she's ever travelled by plane before, honestly. And my sister would never agree to move, either."

Mary scrunched up her nose. "My parents decided the same. I was hoping they'd choose one of those Ministry-approved safe houses, but… They've got the shop to run and all, so…"

She gave Lily a small smile. Lily tried to smile back, hoping she didn't look as worried as she felt.

"How'd you get back to Hogwarts?" Marlene asked Lily. "Side-Along Apparition?"

Lily shuddered. "Not on your life. Our fireplace was already connected to the Floo Network for my apprenticeship, so I just Flooed to McGonagall's office."

"Side-Along's not that bad," chirped Mary as she helped herself to some roast duck. "An Auror Apparated me to Hogwarts. It wasn't terrible."

Marlene lifted an eyebrow. "You were sick all over that poor man's robes."

"Oh, true," said Mary. " _I_ didn't mind, though."

Lily laughed. "I've missed you two."

"I missed _you_ ," said Marlene. "The only young wizards in my part of Aberdeen are the McLaggen brothers — no, thanks — and Peregrine Flint."

"I like Peregrine," said Mary. "His freckles are cute."

Marlene made a face. "I'll take your word for it. He wasn't exactly a joy to be around, anyway."

"Why not?" asked Lily. She peered down the Gryffindor table, where Peregrine Flint was sitting with the other members of the Quidditch team. He was pushing his carrots around on his plate, looking glum.

"You didn't hear?" said Marlene. She lowered her voice and beckoned Lily closer. "His sister's a Squib. Turns out his parents sent her to America before the Muggle-born Protection Act had even passed — perk of having an uncle in the House of Lords. He only found out over the hols. Didn't even get a chance to say good-bye."

"Oh, God," said Lily. "That's awful." Down the table, Peregrine was still scowling at his vegetables. James Potter was sitting across from him; he glanced in Lily's direction and lifted his chin at her in greeting.

Lily promptly began to choke. James didn't seem to notice; he had already turned back to the other members of the Quidditch team.

"He's well fit, isn't he?" commented Mary, gazing dreamily at James. "I think we owe him a life debt now, you know. According to my romance novels, he could legally ask for our hands in marriage…"

"That's not how life debts work," said Marlene as she thumped Lily on the back. "They're only magically binding in very specific circumstances. One person needs to spare the life of another who deserves to die. It has something to do with unearned, freely-given mercy."

Lily spit a glob of half-chewed food into her napkin. Her face felt like it was on fire. "Mercy? That sounds so… arbitrary. Who decides if someone deserves to die? Didn't the Death Eaters think that about us?"

"It's not arbitrary at all!" said Marlene. "Mercy is one of the strongest forces of magic that exists. It's like love, or hope. There are Unspeakables who dedicate their entire lives to its study."

"I'll take your word for it," said Lily, rubbing her sore throat. "I'm just glad I'm not obligated to marry Potter, on threat of losing my wand…"

Marlene smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you are."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," said Marlene in the least innocent voice Lily had ever heard. "Only that… "

She trailed off, looking towards the staff table. Professor Dumbledore had risen from his seat and was tapping a spoon against his glass for silence. The chatter in the Great Hall died down at once; it was as if they had all been waiting for the Headmaster to address what had happened over the Christmas holidays.

Dumbledore's eyes swept across the Great Hall, his expression grave. "Students of Hogwarts," he said. He touched his wand to the tip of his throat to amplify his voice, and Lily was suddenly and startlingly reminded of the way Lord Voldemort's voice had once echoed in her mind. Beside her, Mary grimaced.

"First and foremost," said Dumbledore, "I must humbly apologize. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I am tasked with ensuring the safety of all who shelter within these walls. Despite my every effort to keep Hogwarts safe, we are fewer in number now than we were in August. Three students have fallen, casualties of the war that draws ever nearer to our doorstep."

Lily frowned. Three students? There had only been two deaths on the Hogwarts Express. Across the table, Marlene mouthed Dumbledore's words, looking similarly confused.

"For the past half-decade," continued Dumbledore, "the staff of Hogwarts has taken every precaution to protect its pupils from the Dark wizard who deals in hatred and division. Unfortunately, as we have seen, Lord Voldemort and his followers will not be deterred from the slaughter of those they deem inferior. The efforts of our staff alone are no longer sufficient to stem this threat. As such, the Ministry has seen fit to supply Hogwarts with additional protection. Aurors will be posted at every entrance to Hogwarts, and members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will patrol the castle at all times."

Across the table, Sirius Black let out a very loud groan.

"What's his problem?" muttered Marlene.

Lily smirked. "Probably not looking forward to having to sneak past prefects _and_ Aurors just to get a midnight snack in the kitchens."

Sirius shot her an incredulous look and gestured rudely at her with two fingers. She smiled angelically at him in response.

"Hogsmeade weekends shall be cancelled until we can guarantee the safety of Hogwarts students both on and off the grounds of Hogwarts," continued Dumbledore. A chorus of complaints rose from all four tables, but Dumbledore's expression did not change.

Lily glanced at the Slytherin table, hoping to gauge their response to the Headmaster's speech. Regulus was staring at Dumbledore in horror, looking utterly shocked. Beside him, Severus' black eyes glittered with disdain as he glared at Dumbledore.

Lily was sorely tempted to hex the expression off Severus' pinched face; it was only with great effort that she turned back towards the staff table. She couldn't believe Severus dared look at Dumbledore — Dumbledore! — with such contempt. She really hadn't known him at all.

"Although evil exists beyond these castle walls, we must not let ourselves become paralyzed by fear," said Dumbledore. "Let us stand firm for what is right — for inclusion, for justice, for fair treatment for all. This is how we can honour the sacrifices of Amy Roberts, Richard Jones, and Sally Dearborn."

He shook his wand back into the sweeping folds of his robes and sat down.

"Sally?" asked Mary as the Hall began to buzz with chatter. "Why — why did he make it sound like she had died, too?"

Marlene ran both her hands through her short, spiky hair, looking rattled. "Dunno. I thought — I'd assumed her family had pulled her out of school. But if Dumbledore's talking about sacrifices, and casualties of war…"

"…Then he thinks she's dead, too," finished Lily softly.

"Impossible," said Marlene. "I don't believe it. There would've been a notice in the paper if they'd figured out what had happened to her."

Mary's lip trembled. "But if that's Dumbledore's best guess…"

"There would have been a bloody _obituary_ ," said Marlene forcefully. "Right, Lily?"

Lily nodded, though she wasn't sure what to think. Across the room, Severus' eyes were still on the staff table, but was no longer glaring at Dumbledore; instead, his heavy brow was furrowed, as if he was confused. Mulciber, on the other hand, looked very pleased with himself.

Dumbledore didn't know what had happened to Sally. But Lily might.

* * *

Sirius wished he could transform into Padfoot and barrel past the hordes of younger students who were clogging up the staircase to the Gryffindor tower. That night was the full moon, and Remus hadn't been at the feast. No doubt Madam Pomfrey had already taken him to the Shrieking Shack.

Sirius flung open the door to the boys' dormitory, but James and Peter weren't there. Even though he'd sat across from James at the feast, they'd hardly said a word to each other. It was the first time they'd seen each other since he'd gone back to Grimmauld Place, and Sirius was sure that James was waiting until they were alone in their dormitory to have a little chat about why Sirius had run off.

James' trunk was lying at the foot of his immaculately-made bed, the corners of the crimson sheets tucked tightly beneath the mattress. The house-elves needn't have bothered, Sirius thought; James never made his bed.

While Sirius waited for the others, he set about trying to pick the magical lock on James' trunk. He figured that if he could get to the map, he could fiddle with it until the others arrived. He nearly had the lock figured out when the door to the dormitory opened and James and Peter tramped in.

"Took you long enough," said Sirius. He screwed up his face in concentration as he twisted his wand back and forth inside the lock. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

There was a thump above Sirius as James dropped his school bag onto his bed. "Padfoot. What're you doing?"

Sirius grunted. "Thought I could work on the map while I waited. Aha!" A clang like a bell reverberated around the room, and the lock popped off James' trunk. Sirius let out a whoop of triumph, trailing off awkwardly when he caught sight of the look on James' face. "Yeah?"

The bed sagged a little as James sat on it. "Sirius, mate."

"What?"

" _What_? You —" James made a gesture like he wanted to shake Sirius. "Are you alright? What — what happened? You vanished, we hadn't heard from you — I tried to use the mirror… Did you go back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Oh. That." Here was the chat that Sirius had known was coming. Across the room, Peter was very obviously trying to unpack and pay them no mind.

"Yeah," said James firmly. "That."

Sirius fidgeted with his wand. "Are you upset with me?"

"Do I look upset?"

He didn't. Sirius had no idea how James did it sometimes, pulling maturity out of his arse, like he was the leader of the group and Sirius merely a follower. Like James was the master, and Sirius the dog.

"I've been worried about you," said James. "We all have."

"Your mum and dad —"

" _Our_ mum and dad are fine. Got out of St Mungo's on Sunday." James' chest swelled a bit with pride. "Takes more than dragon pox to get the better of them." There was a crash from Peter's side of the room at the mention of dragon pox, but neither James nor Sirius paid him any mind.

"Good," said Sirius. He cast about for something further to say but came up empty-handed. "That's good."

James' smile was thin. "What about you, then? Are _you_ good?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. To buy some time, he took his wand out of his pocket and stuck it behind his ear. That felt uncomfortable, so he put it across his lap. When he looked up, James was still eyeing him like he expected more of a response. "I'm good," repeated Sirius, as if that made it true. "Decent, at least. Went back to Grimmauld Place, like you guessed, but it honestly wasn't that bad. Told them I wanted to try my hand at all the firstborn baloney they've wanted me to do for ages."

"Shit," said James. "And?"

Sirius shrugged. "And they said alright. Mum cried her crocodile tears, and they let me back in. Wanted to give me another chance, I guess. It was boring, honestly. Lots to do with money. Floo-calls to Gringotts, learning about investments, how to evaluate property. That sort of thing."

"Right," said James. "Well. That's good, I guess."

"It's just for the time being. Just for the inheritance."

One of James' eyebrows quirked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sirius grimaced. "I realized that I'm actually not alright with centuries of gold and valuables going directly into the hands of Death Eaters. I can't do much to stop the war — I'm not an Auror, or anything — but I can do this, at least."

Sirius did his best to sound casually unconcerned, but James was still watching him steadily. "That's a heavy burden for one person."

"It's really not."

"I wish you'd have Floo-called us to say you were alright. Or used the mirror."

"I know," said Sirius. "It's just — it's easier if I don't. When I'm there, I have to focus on just — being there. When I get distracted by — by things outside Grimmauld Place, that's when it's harder to deal with. It makes me a bit crazy."

James nodded. "Well. If it ever does become too much, you've always got a bedroom at my place. Just so you know."

"Thanks, mate. And when my parents pop their clogs, I'm using that gold to buy you three Cleansweep Sixes and a spot on the Wimbledon Wasps."

Peter coughed loudly, drawing their attention towards him.

"Yeah, Pete?" asked James. "Something you wanted to add?"

"Oh no, nothing at all," said Peter from behind a magazine entitled _Dazzle_. The cover of the magazine was adorned with photographs of witches in various states of undress. "I was just perusing some literature, didn't catch a word of whatever it was you lot were talking about. Just wondering — you _do_ know it's nearly nine o'clock, and Moony's —"

James swore and jumped to his feet. "He's bound to be wondering where we are. Sirius, brilliant job on my trunk, d'you mind grabbing the Cloak…?"

* * *

After the feast ended, Regulus and Avery excused themselves from the Slytherin table to attend their prefect meeting. Severus was frankly surprised that Avery hadn't had his prefect badge revoked after nearly failing every core subject the previous term; he'd only passed their last Potions exam because Severus had spent the entire time hissing instructions in his ear.

Severus joined the rest of the Followers in returning to the common room, where all of Slytherin seemed to be comparing notes on what the Dark Lord's appearance meant for the war. Wilkes and Rosier chatted loudly about how impressive the attack on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters had been, causing a few of the younger students to eye them warily. Among the upper years, the general consensus was that it was a shame the Dark Lord hadn't had the time to take care of more blood traitors.

Privately, Severus had found the whole attack to be somewhat disappointing. It lacked any sense of finesse, and that speech the Dark Lord had given was melodramatic and superfluous. It was a waste of time for a Dark Lord to pontificate about how evil he was — he ought to let his actions speak for themselves.

None of the Followers asked Severus for his opinion, though, so he remained silent. He cared more about what Dumbledore had let slip during his speech, the sentimental old sop. Something about Sally Dearborn being a casualty.

Sally must be dead, then. That was interesting. Severus was certain Mulciber hadn't been the one to kill her — after all, he'd tried to claim credit for it, and Bella had seen right through him. But if not Mulciber — who?

A few seventh years arranged the tables around the common room into a sort of stage and began to reenact the attack on the Hogwarts Express to general applause. Severus excused himself, muttering something about needing the toilet. Once he had ducked out of eyesight, he promptly Disillusioned himself and slunk out of the dungeons. Regulus and Avery were still in their prefect meeting, but they'd be out soon, and when they did, Severus had questions for them. Both were too neurotic — and, in Avery's case, too dull — to have killed Sally Dearborn, but all the same, they'd gone looking for her the night of the Halloween feast. Perhaps they had seen something they didn't realize was significant.

On the ground floor, Severus crouched beside a suit of armour until the door to the staffroom opened and the prefects began to file out. Lily was one of the first ones out, chatting with a couple of girls from Ravenclaw. One of them made some sort of wry comment, and Lily laughed loudly and unselfconsciously.

Severus grimaced. How could she be so happy, after the attack on the Hogwarts Express? Didn't she realize she could be next? She should never have returned to Hogwarts. Not that it was any of his concern.

Regulus and Avery were the last to leave the staffroom. As they passed the alcove where Severus was standing, he aimed a Trip Jinx at Avery's feet.

Avery stumbled forward, and Regulus steadied him. "Alright, Edmund?"

Severus let out a low whistle. Both of them looked towards the suit of armour. "It's me," he muttered when they made no move to approach him. "We need to talk."

"Severus?" asked Regulus, approaching the alcove. He squinted and put out a hand towards Severus' near-invisible form. "What's this about, then?"

The door to the staffroom opened, and Severus hushed him. Chester Fernsby, the Head Boy, stepped into the Entrance Hall and began to climb the steps of the marble staircase. Only once he had reached the first floor landing did Severus dare talk. "Did you hear what Dumbledore said during the feast?"

"Of course," said Regulus, raising his chin a little. Severus supposed he was trying to seem uncaring, but he was failing miserably at it. The crease between his eyebrows gave him away; he looked he couldn't wait for Severus to stop talking so that he could flee to his dormitory and scribble down all his worries in that journal of his.

"You realize that Dearborn must be dead," said Severus as he lifted the Disillusionment Charm he had placed on himself.

Avery's mouth fell open. "You really — you think she's… ?"

"He lumped her in with Roberts and Jones," snapped Severus. "He called her a _casualty of war_. Obviously she's dead."

The crease between Regulus' eyebrows grew deeper. "And why did you want to speak with us? _We_ didn't kill her."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Severus. "I wanted to know if you saw anything the night she went missing. You went after Mulciber during the Halloween Feast — did you see her? Or anything unusual?"

Avery shook his head. "Nothing. We didn't see Sally at all. We found Mulciber on the — where were we, on the —"

"The seventh floor," supplied Regulus, with a glance at Avery. "He was lurking outside Gryffindor tower. Hoping to ambush her, I think."

Severus narrowed his eyes. He wished there was a way to ensure their honesty, but Regulus wouldn't take kindly to Severus using Legilimency on him again. He might be able to try it on Avery, though, if he got the chance. "If I find out you are withholding valuable information —"

"We're not," said Avery. "Why do you care what happened to Sally?"

"I don't," said Severus. "I'm glad she's dead. I just think it's suspicious."

"Brilliant deduction," said Regulus. "Hogwarts student goes missing, presumed dead. Severus' conclusion: _suspicious_. Indeed."

"Mulciber probably did it," said Avery. "I mean, if anyone…"

"It wasn't Mulciber," snarled Severus. "I'm certain of that much."

Regulus' mouth twisted into an ironic smile. He could have been Sirius' twin. " _That's_ what this is about, then."

"I don't know what you're implying," said Severus stiffly.

"You hate Mulciber," said Regulus. "You're just trying to get back at him. You want to prove he's incompetent, is that it? Prove he couldn't complete his first assignment as our mentor?"

Severus wished he could curse that smug look off of Regulus' aristocratic face. "Perhaps."

"He's not a great mentor, I'll give you that much," said Regulus. "But he's not the main cause of your problems, Severus. _You_ are."

"That — that is utter nonsense. You —"

"Spare me," said Regulus. "You're exactly like my brother, you know that? You piss people off, then play the victim. It's not Mulciber's fault that you're so unhappy with yourself."

Severus was nearly shaking with fury. "That — that is _completely_ —"

"At least Sirius has learned to fall in line," said Regulus. "You still can't accept that you're not the most valuable recruit Bella has got. Or even the second most valuable."

"You _dare_ —"

"It's the truth," said Regulus. "You're playing detective because it makes you feel useful. But Bella doesn't care what happened to Sally, as long as she's out of the picture, so you're wasting your time. But that's your choice, I suppose." He strode off before Severus could stop him.

Avery made to follow suit, but Severus grabbed him by the arm, squeezing tightly. "I'm not done with you," he hissed.

Avery tried to shrug him off, but Severus tightened his grip. Avery's mouth twisted a bit in pain, and he looked at Severus in confusion. "Sev, I already told you —"

"I need to make sure," said Severus. He leaned forward and stared into Avery's eyes as if he was trying to bore a hole through his skull. "Tell me what happened to Sally Dearborn."

"I don't know," said Avery, who looked positively alarmed at Severus' intensity. As he spoke, Severus took advantage of the moment to quietly cast Legilimency, without words or a wand. He would only be privy to the very shallowest of Avery's thoughts, but that would be enough. It had to be.

"I don't know," said Avery again. "I've no idea what happened to her." Confusion and genuine frustration rose to the forefront of Avery's mind. There were no signs of deception.

Severus took a deep breath, grounding himself in his own mind. "Fine. Tell me about what happened the night she went missing."

" _Nothing_ happened," said Avery. His frustration was mounting; Severus could feel it seeping across their mental connection like sewage.

"There has to be more to it," said Severus. "It doesn't make sense. People don't just vanish into thin air. What else did you see? Retrace your steps, every detail matters —"

A wave of anger slammed into Severus's mind, so intense that it felt as if he'd been slapped. He gasped, and his head jerked to the side involuntarily, breaking their connection.

"I'm not telling you again," said Avery, slipping into that smarmy tone he used when disciplining first years. "We didn't find her. There's no need to retrace my steps."

Severus gritted his teeth. "If you would just humour me —"

"I won't," said Avery. "You're being ridiculous. You're obsessed. Now get your greasy hands off of me, before I take points."

Severus glared, but he relinquished his grasp, balling his hands into fists at his side.

"Much appreciated," said Avery. He straightened a little and adjusted his robes, clearly more comfortable now that he was back in his role of insufferable prefect. "If I may, Sev — spending too much time alone can do funny things to one's head. Sluggy offers counselling on Tuesdays — part of his job as Head of House, you know…"

Severus gnashed his teeth together to keep himself from screaming. "Get. Out."

Once Severus had calmed down enough to be sure he wouldn't do something he'd regret, he made a beeline for the library, to his secret room. He spent the rest of the afternoon venting his frustrations to the mirror, foregoing Occlumency completely in favour of allowing it to play out his wildest, most violent fantasies. He was no first year, needing to be lectured by the likes of Regulus and Avery. And, no matter what Regulus said, Severus was nothing — _nothing_ — like Sirius Black, who'd been handed everything on a silver platter and thrown it all away out of spite. No, he, Severus, was the opposite — he'd had to struggle just to survive, and still nobody recognized his talent, nobody accepted him, nobody cared for him, it wasn't fair —

He froze in front of the mirror, breathing hard. Reflected back at him was a girl with dark red hair. Her hands were outstretched as if trying to grasp his, and her emerald green eyes were full of compassion. Upon meeting his eyes, she smiled sweetly.

"Stop that," Severus ordered the mirror. "Change it back. Go back to the one with Regulus, that's what I came here to see, I don't want this —"

The image of Lily merely nodded, infinitely understanding as she acknowledged his pain. She gestured for him to come closer.

"I know you deal in the impossible," Severus spat at the mirror, "but this time you stretch the limits of credibility. Put it back."

He grumbled at the mirror for several more minutes, but it was futile. Lily watched him rant without flinching; her expression was deeply sympathetic. It was the most kindness he'd been shown in months.

He knew he had to get rid of her. Her presence was too gentle, too good, and he could feel his resolve slipping every time he looked in the mirror. He would curl up and die here, staring into it, if he couldn't figure out how to make her go away, but he didn't want to close his mind to her.

Hours passed, and Severus' ranting turned to begging. He pleaded with the image of Lily to leave, to turn into Mulciber instead. He told her that he didn't want to get rid of her, that he couldn't. She was deaf to his words; her palms pressed against the mirror as if it were the only barrier separating them, and her gaze was full of longing. She wanted to be reunited just as badly as he did.

"You're going to drive me insane," he said. "Please. You have to leave."

She shook her head, her emerald eyes imploring.

"You have to go," he said. "I can't be the one to do it. Not again."

She reached out as if to touch his cheek. It was torture, being able to see her and speak to her, even though he knew it wasn't real. A fitting punishment for not using Occlumency, he supposed. He'd never make that mistake again.

At last, Severus closed his eyes and focused on clearing his mind. He pushed aside the deeply-buried part of him that longed to speak to Lily again, to tell her everything that had happened since they'd stopped being mates. To tell her that he was certainly a worse person without her. To tell her he was sorry. He hid everything away so well that not even he could find it.

When his mind was empty, he dared to glance at the mirror. To his relief, it showed only his reflection, and nothing more.

* * *

 **A/N:** Do you ever work on something for so long that it might be crap, but you can't tell because you haven't got any distance from it? That's how I'm feeling about this chapter... dunno if I'm happy with it or not! But sitting on it longer helps no-one, so I'm publishing it and hope you've enjoyed! Next chapter will be up soon :)


	27. Destination, Determination, Deliberation

Lessons resumed the next morning, though Lily had to admit that it felt strange to have officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement standing at the back of every classroom, surveying the students as if at any moment one of them would turn into Lord Voldemort himself. They were like extra prefects — she couldn't even make her rounds without running into an Auror who was also doing a slow patrol of the corridors.

There was one unexpected benefit to having Aurors and DMLE officers posted about the castle: Mulciber's gang didn't dare step a toe out of line with them around. She'd expected the Slytherins to be emboldened, even dangerous, after Lord Voldemort's attack on the Hogwarts Express, but even Mulciber seemed to realize that cursing first years was not a good idea with Aurors around.

Severus kept staring at her during Potions lessons. Probably seeking confirmation that she'd been traumatized by what had happened on the Hogwarts Express, if she had to guess. She ignored him, except to laugh more loudly than usual whenever he was within earshot. She refused to give him the satisfaction of thinking she was afraid.

During their second lesson of the new term, he stared at her so pointedly that he failed to notice Edmund Avery put Gurdeyroot instead of ginger in the Hiccoughing Solution they were brewing. The potion began to emit a cloud of smoke so foul that the entire class had to evacuate the dungeon and wait in the corridor while Slughorn fumigated the room.

Lily made sure to laugh at Severus' mistake, and rather nastily, too. That seemed to teach him a lesson; he kept his eyes on his cauldron after that.

The last week of January, signups for Apparition lessons appeared on the noticeboard in the Gryffindor common room. Lily reluctantly added her name to the list. She hated travelling by Floo Powder, Portkey, and broomstick, so she was certain that Apparition would be similarly unpleasant.

"It's really not so bad," said Mary, trying to reassure her. "When I was Side-Alonged, it was exactly like travelling by Floo, except it was also horribly painful and I felt like I was dying because I couldn't breathe."

"Oh, well if that's all," said Lily sarcastically. "Now I'm _really_ looking forward to Apparating."

Their first lesson was held in the Great Hall, which had been cleared of its tables to make room for the forty-odd students who would be learning to Apparate. An instructor from the Ministry gave a short lecture on the basics of Apparition, but his instructions were so vague that Lily doubted she'd be able to grasp the trick of it quickly.

After the lecture, the students were to practise turning on their heels. Aurors sat quietly at the staff table, watching their efforts like a panel of judges.

"I wish they wouldn't watch us," moaned Mary with a glance at the staff table. "I don't do well under pressure, look…" She turned halfheartedly on her heel, then wobbled and fell to the ground.

Marlene snorted. She extended a hand to help her up. "Yeah, you really made a good effort there, shame…"

A loud _crack_ sounded from the other side of the Great Hall, catching Lily's attention. Sirius Black had successfully Apparated into one of the wooden hoops strewn about the Hall. He bowed theatrically as Peter Pettigrew applauded, then spun again and vanished with another resounding crack. He appeared in another hoop twenty feet to the left, looking very smug.

He certainly seemed happier than he had last term, when he'd asked her what it was like to feel guilty. But — hadn't he gone home for the holidays? He'd never returned to St Mungo's after his first visit to Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. They'd speculated that he'd gone back to living with his parents. She only knew a little about the situation, but the Blacks didn't sound very nice.

Well. Regulus was alright.

 _I need to find out what Regulus knows_ , she thought. She was certain he knew _something_. He'd been cursed by Sally Dearborn at the start of last term, and he went round with the only people in the castle who would dare lay a finger on Sally.

He'd never to talk to Lily about it, of course, but maybe he'd let something slip to Sirius over the holidays.

"Impressive," said Lily. She sidled up to Sirius, who had just successfully Apparated for the third time. "Mind giving me some pointers? I'm having a bit of trouble…"

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Wondergirl, having trouble? Colour me surprised."

Lily made a face. "I _hate_ magical travel."

"Ah," said Sirius. "You're not the first Muggle-born I've heard that from, actually."

"Really? I didn't know you made a habit of chatting with Muggle-borns."

"Technically, she was pure Muggle," said Sirius. "But I suppose you could still call her Muggle-born, since her parents are Muggles, as well. What say you?"

"Erm, I say, 'how did you meet a Muggle who travels by magic?' "

"Long story," said Sirius airily. "Really boring." He stuck out an arm for her to hold and lead her to an unoccupied spot in the room. "At your service, then. What part's giving you trouble?"

"Well — all of it, really, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you," said Lily. She hesitated, but nobody was paying them any mind. Across the room, James Potter was leaping from hoop to hoop like a ballerina, leaving Parvana Patil nearly in tears with laughter.

Sirius followed her gaze. "Is this about James? I'm not sure what to tell you — you had your chance, nearly six years of it, so if it's only now that you're realizing —"

"What?" said Lily. "No, I — why do people keep _saying_ that?"

"I mean, when you go around telling everyone he saved your life…"

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "If telling the _truth_ means I'm secretly in love with him —"

"Your words, not mine —"

"Har, har. Very funny."

Sirius lifted a shoulder, then spun gracefully on his heel. There was a thunderous crack, and he appeared five feet behind her.

"Would you _stop that_?" asked Lily, covering her ears. "I swear, you're trying to make me deaf on purpose —"

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically. "Wondergirl. I would never." He spun again but didn't disappear. At first, Lily thought he'd failed to Apparate, but then she realized he had silently and instantly moved several inches closer to her.

"How did you —"

He grinned. "I thought you didn't need my help to Apparate."

"I don't!"

He folded his arms behind his head. "So what's the deal, then?"

Lily took a breath. "Your brother."

Sirius' casual expression vanished. He twitched and then disappeared with a crack, reappearing at the other end of the Great Hall. Lily groaned and began to jog towards him.

"I'm not talking about Regulus with you," said Sirius when she had caught up to him.

"Why not?" panted Lily.

Sirius pointed a finger at her. "You are nothing but trouble for him." He turned on his heel and disappeared again. She didn't notice him reappear, so she stood on her tiptoes, scanning the Great Hall. Finally, a flash of movement near the staff table caught her eye.

Lily clenched her fists in determination, shut her eyes, and spun.

She heard a crack, and a strange pressure compressed her body from all sides, as if something were trying to squeeze her through a tube of toothpaste. She tried to draw a breath, but couldn't, and her heart began to pound in panic. The pressure increased until it was nearly unbearable; she couldn't see a thing, she couldn't breathe, surely her bones would be crushed —

Then the feeling stopped, and she stumbled into Sirius.

"Nice job," said Sirius as he steadied her. "Think you left a bit of fringe over by the Ravenclaws, though, look…"

Lily patted her hair, making a face. "That was awful."

"I like it," said Sirius stubbornly. "You'll get used to it; you just need to practise."

The thought of voluntarily subjecting herself to Apparition again made her shudder, and she changed the subject. "About Regulus — I just want to know… He didn't say anything to you, did he, over the holidays? About Sally Dearborn?"

Sirius blinked. "About Sally? No. Why?" An incredulous grin spread across his handsome face. "You don't think _Regulus_ had something to do with what happened to her, do you?"

"Not — not _him_ , necessarily, but that gang he goes round with, they might've —"

"Probably," said Sirius carelessly. "But there's no way Reg knows anything about it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Trust me," said Sirius. "He can't even bump into a suit of armour without apologizing. If he knew that his pals Mulciber, or Avery, or whoever, had offed Sally Dearborn? He'd be having nervous breakdowns in the corridors. He can't handle that kind of stress."

"I mean, I don't know if you've seen him around lately," said Lily, "but he's twitchier than Peter during a Defense exam."

"Nah, that's just Reg's baseline." Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "Honestly, Lily. He had nothing to do with it. Don't bother him about this."

"Don't bother him because he doesn't know anything? Or because you think I'm trouble?"

"Do you want an honest answer to that?"

"Always."

Sirius tilted his head, considering her. "Both, then. You've got a bit of a complex about saving people — _especially_ poor, misguided Slytherins. Reg has got enough on his plate without you muddling him up further."

Lily was nearly speechless. "That's — that's just unbelievable. I do _not_ have a complex —"

Sirius ticked examples off on his fingers. "You sided with Snivellus over James last spring, even though Snivellus spent the _entire year_ showing you the type of person he was. When Regulus crashed my birthday party, you thought _he_ was the one who needed protecting."

"Those two things are _not_ related —"

"Sure they're not." He sounded bored. "Look, I'm not judging you. I appreciate your efforts, actually — don't think Reg has ever had a conversation with someone who wasn't a pure-blood before you. But you need to leave him alone."

She hated when people told her what to do. "And why should I?"

"Because if you don't, it's not going to end prettily." He spoke with certainty, as if he'd seen the future in his tea leaves. "Reg's got a weakness for you, and that's an enormous problem, because he is _just like Severus_."

 _He's got a weakness for you_. Lily didn't like the way those words made her stomach flutter. "He's not like Severus. He doesn't — he doesn't believe…"

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Sirius darkly. "In any case, his beliefs are irrelevant."

"Then how can you say he's just like Sev?"

"Because they're both cowards," said Sirius bitterly. "Regulus might not be as gung-ho as Snape, but my parents have made him take sides, and he doesn't have the guts to change. Sorry."

He sounded so dismissive of his own brother. The scorn in his voice reminded her of Petunia; she'd probably said similar things about Lily.

"That isn't true." She felt like she needed to defend Regulus. "He's just confused."

"I know him better than you. Trust me — you're not going to change his mind. Not even if you become his little Muggle-born girlfriend."

Lily rankled at Sirius' condescending tone. He had some nerve. "If you're saying I shouldn't even _try_ —"

"Exactly. It's not your job to save him."

"I'd think it'd be yours," snapped Lily, "seeing as he's your brother. But you seem to be running from that responsibility, too, aren't you?"

Sirius' haughty, bored expression vanished. Something dark twisted in his face, and he reached for his wand, looking murderous.

Lily took an involuntary step back. "Sorry. That was — I was out of line."

"Right," said Sirius, glaring at her. With what seemed like a great effort, he wrenched his hand away from his wand. "Right. Well. It just so happens that I've begun to take more responsibility for the sorry state of the Noble House of Black. Not that it's any of your business."

"It's really not," said Lily. "I'm sorry, Sirius."

Sirius' voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Apology accepted, _Wondergirl_."

Lily opened her mouth to respond, but he Apparated away before she could say anything else.

* * *

"Where's the map?" asked Sirius. He was sprawled in the lap of one of the mermaid statues in the prefects' bathroom. There was a warm towel on his forehead and another only loosely wrapped around his waist.

James and Peter were splashing about in the Olympic-sized bath, trying to dunk each other underwater. Remus lounged, fully-clothed, in a beach chair nearby, wearing sunglasses and reading a book.

James stopped wrestling with Peter just long enough to respond. "Come off it. I'm not taking out the map in here."

"Why not? It's Impermeable, isn't it?"

James, who wasn't wearing his glasses, shot a slightly cross-eyed look in Sirius' general direction. "Nothing's Impermeable when it comes to you."

"Too right," said Sirius proudly. The statue of the mermaid stroked his wet hair affectionately, and he beamed at her. "You can trust me, though. I just wanna work on it. Promise."

Peter spat out a mouthful of water and pushed James away from him. "Why can't you just relax for once? This is the last spa day we'll have until March, the bathroom's booked solid for the next month and a half…"

"Moony, back me up," commanded Sirius. "Tell them I've got good intentions."

Remus peered at him over his sunglasses. "I don't believe that for an instant."

"Traitors, the lot of you," said Sirius, though he was finding it hard to be cross, since the mermaid was now massaging his scalp. "What if I said it was for a noble cause?"

"You wanna start hexing the Slytherins again?" asked Peter hopefully. James sent a wave of water towards the back of his head and he spluttered indignantly. "What? Don't tell me you're not _bored_ , we never do anything fun anymore —"

"It's nothing to do with Slytherin," said Sirius. "That's the whole point, actually."

Remus' thick eyebrows arched over the top of his sunglasses. "Do tell."

"Knew you'd be on my side, Moony," said Sirius. He blew a kiss towards Remus, who responded with a very rude hand gesture. "Oh, stop, you're offending the mermaid — anyway. You know Lily Evans, yeah?"

"Nope," said James.

"Never heard of her," said Peter.

"Who?" asked Remus.

Sirius exchanged an exasperated glance with the mermaid. "You lot think you're so funny."

Remus' lip twitched. "Something like that."

"Anyway," said Sirius impatiently. "Evans said something completely mental during our Apparition lesson the other day. She was going on about Regulus knowing something about whatever happened to Sally Dearborn, which is obviously untrue —"

"D'you reckon?" asked James, who was starting to look genuinely interested.

"Of course it's not true! Regulus is like — he's like one of those yappy dogs my Aunt Druella loves."

"He pees on furniture?" asked Peter.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I mean that he's harmless."

"All bark and no bite?" asked Remus.

"Exactly," said Sirius. "I was thinking, though... Evans' way off the mark, but I can see how one might think Reg's stupid Slytherin gang had something to do with whatever happened to Sally."

"They wouldn't dare," said Peter. "If Regulus is a Pomeranian, Mulciber's a — a… "

"Bulldog?" asked James.

"Yeah, that works," said Peter. "He's something fat and stupid, at least."

"You know," said Remus, turning a page in his book, "despite their fierce appearance and violent history, bulldogs are actually one of the gentlest breeds. They're much less vicious than Pomeranians, for instance."

Sirius groaned. "You are _ruining_ my metaphor, Moony. Ruining it."

Remus blew him a kiss. The mermaid statue stopped stroking Sirius' hair; she crossed her arms and glared jealously at Remus.

"My point," said Sirius, trying not to laugh at the pouting statue, "is that Evans got me thinking about the power of the map."

"How d'you mean?" James' brow furrowed, making him look even more cross-eyed.

"Think about it," said Sirius. "If we can figure out how to track more than just my wet rag of a brother… If we could somehow get the map to show everyone at Hogwarts, all the time —"

Remus removed his sunglasses. "Merlin's wilted wand. That's —"

"Brilliant?" said Sirius. "I know."

"Er, sorry," said Peter, his head swivelling back and forth between them, "but could you explain in English, for those of us who don't happen to share your telepathic bond?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked James. "If Sally's still in the castle, and we get the map working —"

"— We could find her," said Peter, his eyes widening.

Sirius nodded. "Reg's mates might not be complete saints, but they had nothing to do with whatever happened. We'll find Sally, win some points for the House Cup, maybe a medal or two from Dumbledore..."

"Unless," said Remus.

Sirius' towel nearly slipped off his waist as he got up from the mermaid's lap. "Unless what?"

"Well," said Remus slowly, "if we go poking our nose where it doesn't belong, we might not like what we find. Suppose it's not the heroic rescue you're imagining. That is — suppose we find what's left of her."

Sirius paused. He hadn't considered that.

James spoke first, his voice firm with conviction. "All the more reason to finish the map, then. What if we're the only ones who can bring her father closure?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, giving himself a little shake to recover his composure. "That's the spirit. You're in, then, Prongs?"

"'Course I am," said James. Wet curls flopped across his face as he jerked his head his bag, which lay at the edge of the bath. "Get out the map."

"I'm blushing," said Sirius. "You trust me to take it out in here, after all?"

"It's Impermeable, isn't it?"

"We'll find out," said Sirius. He grinned wickedly, clutching James' bag to his chest, and cannonballed into the bath.

* * *

Between schoolwork, Apparition lessons, and practising for the upcoming match against Hufflepuff, James was so busy that he hardly had time to spend with his mates, much less with Parvana. ("Nobody's _making_ you train four hours a day," commented Sirius when James complained about this. James responded by Transfiguring the quill Sirius was holding into a giant centipede.)

Luckily for James, Parvana seemed to understand completely — in fact, a few weeks into the new term, she began to join him on the Quidditch pitch at six in the morning. While training, they barely spoke; their frosted breath to fill the space between them as they jogged, side-by-side, around the pitch.

James was pretty sure the comfort he felt with her was proof of their compatibility. After all, his father had always said Euphemia was his best friend, someone he could be completely himself around. Parvana was more or less James' best friend, too. After Sirius, Remus, Peter, and his parents, of course.

In some ways, his relationship with Parvana was even _more_ platonic than his relationship with Sirius; after all, he'd seen Sirius naked on many occasions, but he still had no idea what Parvana looked like without her Quidditch leathers on.

"Do you think we talk about Quidditch too much?" James panted one morning as they jogged around the pitch.

Parvana let out a small huff of surprise. Her breath crystallized in the air. "Of course not. Why?"

"Just something Sirius said over the holidays." James tried to sound casual, which was difficult to do at the speed they were running.

"Well, what else would we talk about?"

"Exactly!" James clapped her on the shoulder, glad she saw things his way. Sirius was full of shite.

Parvana didn't seem quite as reassured as he was, however. Her thin brows furrowed, and as they finished their lap around the pitch, she sprinted ahead of him to run the next one by herself.

This didn't concern James in the least; they often trained separately. She respected his space, and he respected hers. It was just one of the reasons why they made a fantastic couple.

"I might marry her, you know," he told Peter and Remus during Care of Magical Creatures one afternoon. They were working with Diricawls: large, plump birds which couldn't fly, but were able to vanish and reappear at will.

Remus frowned at the Diricawl James was stroking. "I hate to disappoint you, but I think that one's a male."

" _That's_ what you're concerned about?" said Peter. "Not the fact that interspecies marriage is illegal in twenty-seven countries?"

Remus hummed thoughtfully. "Times change, Wormtail. It wasn't so long ago that troll-human hybrids were considered brainless abominations. But you need only look at Mulciber to know that's all wrong, don't you?"

A bark of laughter sounded from the other side of the pen. Sirius, who was trimming the talons of an impressively large Diricawl under Professor Kettleburn's supervision, wagged a finger at Remus.

"Bad Moony," said James, ruffling Remus' hair. "Don't distract Sirius, he'll end up agitating the Diricawl and it'll take off Kettleburn's last remaining limb…"

Peter still looked worried. "You weren't _really_ talking about an interspecies relationship. Were you, Prongs?"

"Wormy. What d'you think?"

"Okay, good," said Peter. "Because my great-uncle got involved with a garden gnome, and let me tell you, that was a _messy_ divorce…" He smiled a small, proud grin when James and Remus laughed.

"I'll have to write myself a reminder about that," said Remus. "No dating a garden gnome. Diricawls, though…"

"Can't help who you love, Moony," said James.

"I'm well aware," said Remus. "Keep up that open-minded attitude and you might even be best man at the wedding."

"You lot are so weird," said Peter. "Remind me again why I associate with you?"

James hooked an arm around Peter's shoulder and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. "You tolerate our presence because otherwise we will go squealing to McGonagall about the unregistered Animagus we've spotted scurrying around the corridors at night —"

"You wouldn't!" Peter pushed James away.

Remus nodded gravely, holding a handful of grain out to the Diricawl. "Looks like you're stuck with us."

"It's not all bad," added James. "You can be the flower girl at Remus' wedding."

Peter made a face. "Tell me you two aren't really going to marry a Diricawl."

"Absolutely," said Remus, but James said, "No, are you kidding? I'm going to marry Parvana!"

That earned him a more confused look from Peter than even the talks of interspecies marriage had. Across the pen, Sirius stopped trimming the talons of his Diricawl and stared at James as if he had just said something foul.

Remus recovered first. "That is certainly one option of many available to you —"

Peter put it more bluntly. "You're joking."

"'Course I'm not," said James breezily. "We're a perfect match. Completely compatible in every way."

"Look," said Peter. "No judgement, alright? But you're bonkers if you think you two make a good couple." He put an absentminded hand the Diricawl, which gave an irritated shriek and vanished into thin air.

"Sorry," said James, "but I think calling someone 'bonkers' is the _definition_ of judgement —"

"Have you got your leg over her yet?" said Remus with the same tone one would use to ask if he had picked up milk from the shop.

" _Moony_ ," said James reproachfully. "That is private information. Five points from Gryffindor —"

"— You are not a prefect —"

"— And for your information, yes, I have. One hundred per cent. And it was _excellent_."

Remus merely looked at James. James met his eyes and gave a determined little nod, trying desperately not to smile. Remus said nothing, continuing to hold James' gaze. The Diricawl reappeared at Remus' side and nuzzled against him, chirping sleepily. Remus gave its head a scratch, maintaining eye contact with James all the while.

Finally, James couldn't contain himself any longer, and he broke into a laugh. "Alright, alright — look, Parv and I haven't gotten that far yet. Satisfied?"

Remus looked pleased with himself. "You're a terrible liar."

"Shut up."

"You two have at least snogged, though, right?" asked Peter.

"Erm," said James, "why does it matter?"

"You've been dating since _November_ ," said Peter slowly. "We're in the middle of February now, and you haven't even _snogged_?"

James couldn't believe his so-called mates were being so thick about this. At the other end of the pen, Sirius was so intent on hearing James' answer that he clipped his Diricawl's talon too close to the quick. The large bird shrieked and launched itself onto Professor Kettleburn's chest.

James made a rude hand gesture at Sirius, who was now frantically trying to pry the Diricawl off of Professor Kettleburn. "Serves you right, you git. And yes, Wormy, we've snogged."

The slight raise of Remus' eyebrows contained a thousand unsaid words. "And?"

"And it was — it was fine. I mean, it wasn't, you know…"

"World-changing?" asked Remus.

"Are you gay?" asked Peter.

"Only for Sirius," said James. Sirius stopped tugging at the Diricawl long enough to give James a wink.

"So you snogged Parvana, and it was okay," said Peter. "That's something. I guess."

"Look, our connection goes deeper than snogging, alright? It's a spiritual connection we've got, not a physical one. Which is how I know she's my soulmate."

"I'm not surprised you don't have a physical connection," said Peter. "She's awful at snogging."

James bumped Peter's shoulder so hard that he stumbled into their Diricawl, which promptly disappeared again. "How would you know?"

"Third year," replied Peter at once, his expression wistful. "I dated her for a week in between Marlene and Lily."

Remus' eyes widened. "That's right. I'd forgotten Marlene still thought she liked blokes in our third year."

"Not after dating Wormtail, though," James sniggered, and it was Peter's turn to protest.

"That is so unfair, the two things weren't correlated at all, she told me so herself —"

"Funny," said a voice. Lily was passing them on her way to fill her bucket with more grain. "That's not what Marlene told _me._ "

Peter gawped at her as she floated off. "That's not — there's no way — she _promised_ she'd been thinking about it for ages…"

Lily gave an innocent little shrug, and James laughed. "It's time to face the facts, Pete," he said. "You helped Marlene come to terms with her sexuality, and I'm going to marry Parvana Patil. That's just the way things are."

* * *

Gryffindor's match against Hufflepuff took place on the last Friday in February. The morning air was bitingly cold, but the first rays of the sun seemed brighter than usual, as though promising that warmer weather was on its way. There were even a few clusters of white snowdrop flowers along the path to the Quidditch pitch.

Unfortunately, James found it difficult to enjoy these first signs of spring, because Parvana broke up with him before they had even reached the changing room.

She grabbed his arm when they had nearly reached the Quidditch pitch. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Always," said James. He waved the rest of the team on. "You lot go get changed, we'll meet you there."

Marlene wolf-whistled, and Peregrine Flint clapped James on the back as he passed. "Nothing like a little pre-match snog, eh?"

"Shut it, Flint," said James good-naturedly. Once the rest of the team had darted ahead, he joined Parvana, who was hovering near a row of seats and clasping her hands together so tightly her fingers were going white. "Something the matter, Parv?"

"Erm," she said, not meeting his gaze.

James frowned. Parvana was usually full of calm, confident energy before a match. An unpleasant thought began to form in his mind. "Did you forget to stretch again last night? Because I _told_ you, if you want to achieve your full range of motion today —"

"I stretched," said Parvana. "This is something different."

"Oh, good." James relaxed. He could deal with anything else.

Parvana's dark eyes finally met his own, and she took a deep breath. "I think we should break up."

James blinked. "Wait — what? You're joking, right? Did Peregrine put you up to this?" He craned his neck, trying to see if Peregrine Flint was hiding in the stands. "Very funny, Flint, wherever you are, trying to put me off my game —"

"It wasn't Peregrine's idea," said Parvana apologetically. "I just — I've been thinking about what you said last week. About how all we do is talk about Quidditch. And I think you're right."

James couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Parv. I wasn't _complaining_ about that. I think it's brilliant."

"I know you do," she said. "It _is_ nice. But my sister, Priyanka, in Hufflepuff… she's got a boyfriend, too, and their relationship is a bit different from ours. They snog, for example. A lot. And I just… I think maybe I'd like a relationship that was more like Priyanka's."

"We snog," said James defensively.

"We've snogged _twice_ ," said Parvana. "And I had to practically beg the second time."

"Because I thought you were joking!"

"Why would I joke about wanting to kiss you?"

"I dunno," he said. "Sirius does it all the time."

Parvana shook her head. "I'm sorry, James. I really do think you're a nice bloke. I just think we'd be better off as mates."

"But we're —" He broke off. It probably wasn't a good time to tell her he thought they were soulmates. "You're certain, then?"

"I think so," said Parvana. "I'm really sorry."

James chewed on his lip. This whole conversation wasn't making much sense. "What about the match?"

"What about it?"

"You should've waited till after the match to break up with me," he said. "I'm gonna be in my head now. What if we lose?"

Parvana wrapped her arms around her waist like she was trying to hug herself. "I didn't mean to throw you off. I just — I thought I should tell you as soon as I was certain. This is more important than the match, isn't it?"

"No," he said. "Nothing's more important than Quidditch."

"This is!" said Parvana. "We're talking about our real lives, our relationship. It matters."

Privately, James still thought that Quidditch was more important, but it didn't seem the time to tell Parvana that. "Maybe we're incompatible."

She bit her lip. "Maybe."

"Alright," he said. He ran both his hands through his hair, trying to get a handle on himself. "Alright. So we're broken up. Fine. Will you promise to still catch the Snitch for me?"

She smiled a little. "Of course I will."

But Parvana didn't catch the Snitch.

This wasn't entirely her fault, much as James wished it was. Rather, it was the result of him making several less-than-optimal calls during the second half of the match. Mostly he'd been trying to get the team into formations that kept Parvana as far away from him as possible — so that she wouldn't distract him with her braid and her aloofness and her… desire to snog. Whatever that was about.

After the match — they lost to Hufflepuff, one hundred and seventy to ninety — James didn't stick around to console the team. Instead, he sprinted back to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve the Cloak and a bottle of Firewhisky that had been collecting dust under Peter's bed.

His friends found him several hours later. He was in stag form, laying dejectedly in Hagrid's vegetable patch, an empty bottle of Firewhisky beside him.

"Oh, dear." Sirius stuffed a fist into his mouth in an effort not to grin. "What's gotten into you, Prongs?"

The stag let out a horrible bleating noise, and James turned back into himself, arms and legs still sprawled into the dirt. "Thought I'd take a leaf out of your book. Wallow in self-pity."

Sirius helped James into a sitting position, which made his head spin rather unpleasantly. "No offence, Prongs, but you don't do the whole tortured loner thing all that well."

"I've been alone in the cold for ages. All alone… and it's been so cold…"

"It's been at least an hour and a half, I'll give you that," said Peter.

"Hagrid thought you were dying," added Remus. "He burst into the Great Hall during dinner, sobbing about a majestic stag lying injured among his cabbage. He's been drinking heavily as well, actually. Gathering up the courage to put you out of your misery."

"Good," moaned James. "Let him. This life is too hard."

"Come on, now, Prongs," said Sirius gently. He squatted and took James' face in his hands. "None of that. Hufflepuff's only ahead by twenty points. If they lose to Slytherin, the Cup could still be ours…"

"Sod the Cup," muttered James, and his friends exchanged looks of alarm.

Peter put a hand on James' forehead. "I think he's got a fever."

"Prongs, mate," said Sirius slowly, "you're not out here moping because we lost?"

James shook his head, and the nausea that followed made him immediately regret doing so. " _I_ lost. I lost the person… the most important person… Besides you, Pads," he amended, giving Sirius a cross-eyed smile.

"Ah," said Remus. "Parvana?"

"Don't say her name," gasped James. "It hurts me. It hurts… right here…" He pointed at his stomach, which was indeed hurting quite a lot.

A wry smile twisted Sirius' mouth. "That'll be the Firewhisky, mate."

" 'Mate,' " repeated James. "I thought we were soulmates. But we're not. No souls. Only mates. She —" He listed to the side; Sirius barely managed to jump out of the way before James was sick all over Hagrid's cabbage.

"Never mind," said Remus as he Vanished the sick with practised efficiency. "The cabbage probably appreciates the extra nutrients."

"Glad to be of service," groaned James. His broken heart hurt a little less after vomiting.

"Did she say why she wanted to end things?" asked Sirius, sitting gingerly back down beside James.

"Said we didn't _snog_ ," said James. "Complete tosh."

"It _is_ a load of tosh," said Sirius with the tone of someone reassuring a toddler. "You two snogged loads."

"It was indecent," agreed Remus.

"Disgusting," said Peter.

"We did!" said James. "We snogged _loads_. Well. At least twice."

"Twice is plenty," said Sirius firmly. "You're better off without her, Prongs. If Parvana wants to go on and date a pair of lips, she can be my guest. She doesn't know what she's missing."

"Too right," said Peter.

James made a noise that was half-hiccup, half-affirmative grunt. "Too right."

"That's the spirit," said Sirius. "You'll bounce back. You always do."

"Yeah," said James. "I don't need her. I've got you lot." With some effort, he managed to focus on them. "I love you."

"We love you too," said Remus. "Even when you smell like vomit and deer."

James got unsteadily to his feet. "Think I'm gonna… go for a run in the Forest. Clear my mind."

"I'm coming," said Sirius at once. "You'll need someone to distract Hagrid if he comes charging in with that crossbow of his."

Peter had already vanished, replaced by a plump rat which squeaked something that sounded uncannily like 'me, too'.

Once James had transformed, he gave Remus a look that very clearly said, _Are you coming or what?_

"Go on, then," said Remus, scrambling onto the stag's back. "Let see if we can find the centaurs this time."

* * *

 **A/N:** In case you missed it, I posted a Jily Christmas one-shot over the holidays! Check it out if you like Christmas fluff/the 'second chances' trope/an AU where everybody lives :)


	28. Mischief Managed

"Good news," said Sirius, taking a seat next to Remus in the library. "It's finished."

"It is?" asked Peter. Sirius nodded solemnly.

"Let's see it, then," said James, looking eagerly up from the copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ he'd been reading. He seemed to be coping with his heartbreak by becoming even more obsessive about Quidditch than usual. Sirius wasn't sure that was healthy, but at least it kept James from pining after Parvana.

"Very well," said Sirius, and he produced a roll of parchment from his bag with a flourish. "I present to you: the Magic Map."

"We're not calling it that," said Remus immediately.

James spread the map on the table and whistled appreciatively. Sirius made a face at Remus. "What's wrong with calling it the Magic Map?"

"Erm," said Peter, "it's a terrible name?"

James shoved his glasses up his nose and let out a little huff. "You call this _finished_ , Padfoot?"

"Just about," said Sirius vaguely. He'd caught a glimpse of Regulus, who was seated with Edmund Avery at the other end of the library and appeared to be drawing Avery's star chart for him.

"You haven't even added the dungeons," said James. "Plus there are only two dots on here, and they're labelled _Regulus Black_ and _Remus Lupin_."

"Daisy Hookum's on there somewhere, too," said Sirius. "Check the Hufflepuff common room, you'll see."

Across the library, Regulus lifted his head at the mention of his name. He'd always had hearing like a bat. It was unnatural.

"Also," said James, "do I give a Knut about Remus Lupin's whereabouts? No. I don't. The opposite, in fact."

"How touching," said Remus. "That's very kind of you to say."

James ignored him. "The whole point of this map is to track prefects and beautiful girls."

"And Sally Dearborn," said Sirius quickly.

"That's secondary," said James. "Tell me, Padfoot. Where are the prefects and beautiful girls? Where is Sally Dearborn, if she's so important?"

"Moony's got a badge, technically," said Sirius defensively. "So does Reg. And you said yourself that Daisy is at least an eight." He decided not to mention that he'd tried adding Sally to the map, but nothing had happened. It was possible — not likely, but possible — that he'd bungled the spell. He didn't like to think of the alternative.

"Daisy a seven point five," said James. "If she played Quidditch she'd be an eight. And, honestly, Padfoot. Out of all the prefects, you add _your own brother_?"

Sirius cast a reflexive glance towards the other end of the library and groaned. Regulus had definitely heard that. He was muttering something into Avery's ear.

"Look," said Sirius. "He's my brother, alright? I have to keep an eye on him —"

James raised an eyebrow as Avery got up from the table and began to saunter towards them. "Seems he's got friends who look after him, too."

"Shit," said Sirius, scrambling to hide the map. "Shit, shit —"

"Give it here," said Peter. "I've got an idea." He pulled a jet black quill from his bag and waggled it at Sirius.

Sirius grinned, shoving the map towards Peter. "Work your magic, Wormtail."

Peter nodded and began to write furiously on the map, his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

Avery put both hands on the back of Sirius' chair. "Behaving ourselves, are we?"

"Trying to," replied James shortly.

"I'm glad to hear that," said Avery in the most nasal voice Sirius had ever heard. "How about you, Black? Are you being good?"

"Don't patronize me, you pompous twit," he growled, ignoring the warning look Remus was giving him. "If you don't get your slimy hands off my chair —"

Avery laughed a nasal laugh. "I do apologize. Didn't realize this specific library chair belonged to the House of Black."

"Your arse belongs to the House of Black," muttered Sirius. Remus put his head in his hands.

"Very clever," said Avery. "You know, Regulus says your parents consider you to be the bright one, but I'm starting to reconsider if that's true after all."

Sirius barked a laugh. "That's a bit rich coming from _you_ , dung brains. Tell me, how much are you paying my brother to draw your star charts for you?"

Avery flushed but didn't take the bait. He turned towards Peter instead. "What've you got there, Pettigrew?"

Peter's head peeked over the top of the map. "Nothing." He sounded perfectly guilty; his voice even had a little tremble to it.

"Didn't look like nothing when I was on the other side of the library," said Avery. "Hand it over, Pettigrew."

"It's my Divination homework, I swear!" squeaked Peter. "It's really boring, promise —"

"Do you want detention?"

"Oh, Merlin's beard, no," said Peter, blinking widely.

Avery smirked and gestured towards the map. "Give it here, then."

Peter cast all of them an anguished glance; Sirius thought he spotted the glimmer of a tear. With the air of a prisoner waiting to be Kissed, Peter handed the map to Avery.

Avery turned the map over, frowning, and Sirius saw that the parchment had been wiped clean. "There's nothing written here."

"Huh," said Peter. "Guess I didn't get too far on my Divs homework." As Avery examined the parchment, Peter tossed the black quill to James, who caught it and pocketed it in one swift gesture.

Avery didn't notice; he shook the blank sheet of parchment at Peter. "You were writing all over this a minute ago. I _saw_ you. You can't fool me."

"That's so confusing," said Peter. "Maybe you need glasses?"

"Yeah, right." Avery drew his wand. "It'll be detention for all of you when I find out what sort of perverted things you've been drawing —"

"Not _detention,_ " said Peter. Remus looked like he was trying very hard to keep a straight face. "Oh, Merlin, please no. Not detention, please, I'll do anything —"

"Too late," said Avery. He touched his wand to the parchment. "Bet you didn't realize that there are spells to reveal hidden writing, did you?"

" _Spells_?" squeaked Peter. "Galloping gorgons, we'll be _ruined_ if you cast a spell…"

"I thought as much," said Avery smugly. " _Secretus revelio_."

Black ink bloomed across the parchment, and Sirius grew tense. If Peter had botched whatever he'd been planning —

But the swirls of ink didn't reveal the carefully-drawn map of the castle; instead, writing appeared on the parchment in very familiar penmanship.

 _Mr Wormtail bids Edmund 'Dung Brains' Avery good day and advises him against meddling in business he hasn't the mental capacity to understand._

 _Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Wormtail and shall use smaller words to explain that Edmund is a nosy half-wit and an insufferable arse._

 _Mr Moony would like to disclose that Edmund's deficiencies are due to being dropped on the head as a child, a fact that Edmund's mother confessed privately to Mr Moony the last time they were in bed together._

 _Mr Prongs has nothing more to add, as Edmund is unable to read, the idiot._

Veins were bulging in Avery's neck. "What — you — what the —"

"Huh," said Peter, craning his neck. "That wasn't there a minute ago."

"Detention." Avery was breathing hard. "All of you."

"But we didn't do anything," said Peter. "We didn't write those words. I've never even met a Mr… Wormbottom, was it?"

"I don't need a reason to give you detention," said Avery. "You lot are — You're a gang of marauders. Mischief-makers."

"That's extremely hurtful," said Peter.

"Marauders," repeated James with a whistle. "Those are some cutting words, Edmund."

"I can give you cutting," said Avery, raising his voice. "You're dirt. Blood traitors."

Sirius stood abruptly and shoved his chair into Avery, nearly knocking him over. "Say that again, a little louder. So everyone can hear you."

"Gladly," sneered Avery. "I cannot wait for the day the Dark Lord puts you in your place, you bunch of up-to-no-good _blood traitors_ —"

"Oh, my," said James. "Think you've caught Pince's attention."

He waved jauntily towards the front desk. Madam Pince had set down her book and was glaring at Avery as if he'd just personally threatened to burn down the library.

Avery gulped.

Five incredibly satisfying minutes later, Avery had been banned from the library, along with ten other unlucky students who had happened to be studying nearby. Not wanting to be caught the commotion, Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter ducked under the Invisibility Cloak and crept out of the library.

"That was _brilliant_ , Wormtail," said James once they were in the corridor.

Peter blushed. "It was all thanks to the quill."

"I can't believe he called us _marauders_ ," sniggered Sirius. "Talk about a weak insult."

Remus looked thoughtful. "You know, Pads… It's not that the Magic Map isn't an incredible name, but…"

James snapped his fingers. "The Marauders' Map."

"Precisely." Remus smiled.

"The map's still there, underneath the writing," said Peter. "It's just hidden until it gets the right phrase — sort of like a password. Any ideas?"

"Well," said Sirius, "if we simply let it know we're _up to no good_ …"

Peter was already pulling out the black quill. "And to wipe the map clean?"

"I was thinking 'dirt and blood traitors' ," said James, "but that's a bit strong."

"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?" said Sirius. "Someone ought to inform my mum."

"What about ' _mischief managed'_?" asked Remus. "It's simple."

"Our mischief is never managed," said Sirius. "Not fully, at least."

"I like it," said James. "It'll do for now. Good work today, Marauders. Peter, I officially dub you Most Valuable Pettigrew."

Peter paused from scribbling long enough to take a deep bow.

* * *

In the middle of March, the first warm day of the year arrived like an unexpected breeze. Rays of sunlight streamed through the castle windows, warming the classrooms until they were stiflingly hot. Outside, the grounds of Hogwarts beckoned invitingly, promising sunshine and fluffy clouds and flowers in bloom.

Mary and Marlene promptly began to suffer terrible cramps, causing them to miss Double Charms that afternoon in favour of sunning themselves by the lake. Lily joined them after the lesson. "Flitwick hopes you feel better soon," she said, untying her trainers and letting her toes sink into the dirt. "He also assigned you each an extra five inches on Blood-Stanching Charms for homework."

"Shit," said Marlene. "He doesn't have much sympathy for womanly troubles, does he?"

"I think he's trying to empower you," said Lily.

"I swear I actually have cramps," said Mary, who was lying in the grass and looking very relaxed. "I think I felt a twinge just now."

After a half hour of seeing who could skip rocks the farthest — Marlene won, though Lily swore she'd had her wand up her sleeve — Marlene and Mary decided to take a nap. Lily wasn't tired, so she went for a walk instead.

She wandered around the perimeter of the lake, her thoughts turned to Sally Dearborn. She was no closer to figuring out what had happened to Sally than she had been last term, but she couldn't give up. Dumbledore and the other professors had already stopped looking for Sally; if she gave up, too, it was likely Sally would never be found. And then what would happen to her?

Nothing good, Lily was sure. She figured one of two things had happened: either Sally had run away of her own volition, in which case she would reappear eventually, or else the Slytherins had gotten to her. And if Sally was with the Slytherins, then she was either in danger or dead.

There were footprints in the mud at the edge of the lake. Lily stepped into each one as she walked, trying to match the stride of whoever had been here before her. The footprints gave her an idea; maybe there were signs of Sally on Hogwarts grounds. She might have left tracks, or torn clothing. It was worth investigating.

Hagrid's hut came into view as she rounded the lake. Hagrid was in his vegetable patch, wearing a floppy hat on his huge head and using his umbrella to water the turnips. She waved at him as she walked by, and he beckoned her closer.

"Alrigh', Lily?"

"Hi, Hagrid," she said, smiling. She'd been close with the groundskeeper during her early years at Hogwarts; he'd been her mentor, of sorts. He'd helped her adjust to the magical world and had even taken her shopping for her first wand. "How're the turnips?"

"Goin' ter be a good crop this year," replied Hagrid. He gave her a sly look. "Could use a bit o' help with the waterin', though. Know anyone who migh' be interested?"

"I've got a free period now, funnily enough," said Lily, drawing her wand. It had been years since she'd sought Hagrid's guidance; it would be nice to spend some time with him.

Hagrid watched her closely as she sent a stream of water from her wand towards the row of turnips. "You alrigh', Lily?"

She hesitated. Was she alright? She supposed she was. She was alive, after all. She'd survived the attack on the Hogwarts Express.

But in general, things were… complicated. And as big as Hagrid's heart was, his advice had always been simple. His refrains were always the same: trust Dumbledore, be kind to Petunia, and don't be friends with that Snape boy. She'd long since outgrown his guidance.

Maybe Hagrid had a point, though. After all, look how things with Severus had turned out.

"You can talk ter me," said Hagrid gently. "Lots on yer mind this term, eh?"

Lily avoided his gaze, focusing on one of the more parched-looking turnips. Hagrid had always been more perceptive than most students gave him credit for. "You could say that."

"You were on the train, weren't yeh?" he asked. Lily nodded, biting her lip, and Hagrid's tone softened. "If yer havin' nightmares, Poppy makes a righ' powerful Sleeping Potion. There's no shame in it — load o' folks take 'em, and for lesser reasons, too."

"I'm not having nightmares," said Lily. Which was mostly true. "What happened on the train was awful, but… That's not what worries me. I..." Hagrid put a hand on her arm, lowering her wand, and she trailed off.

"These turnips can take care o' themselves," he said. "Come inside, I'll put the kettle on."

She took a seat at his table, her feet barely brushing the floor. Hagrid poured her an enormous cup of tea and set a plate of inedible rock cakes on the table. She felt like she was eleven years old again.

"Now," said Hagrid, sitting across from her. "Wha's got yeh looking so worried? I could see yeh frownin' from a mile off when yeh were walkin' around the lake…"

Lily took a sip of tea. She felt a little silly confiding in Hagrid like this, as if she were still worried about fitting in at Hogwarts and whether or not Petunia hated her. Her problems seemed so much bigger now.

"Honestly?" she said. "I keep thinking about what happened to Sally Dearborn."

"Ah," Hagrid said sympathetically. "Yeh were close with her, were yeh?"

"Well… not exactly," admitted Lily. "It just bothers me. Even though she's been gone for months, I still think about what might have happened to her." She looked pleadingly at Hagrid. He was part of the staff at Hogwarts; maybe he had some answers for her. "How can someone go missing at Hogwarts? It's supposed to be the safest place in the world. Dumbledore makes it sound like she's dead, but even he doesn't know for certain. Does he?"

Hagrid sighed heavily. "Dumbledore's a great man, but he's no Seer. Wha' happened to Sally's got 'im stumped, too. 'S far as I know, at least."

Lily decided she wasn't above flattering Hagrid to find out more. "You've got to know more than that," she said. "You're practically a professor. Dumbledore trusts you _more_ than some professors, doesn't he?"

Hagrid's chest swelled at the mention of him being a professor. "Well, I wouldn't go as far as all _tha'_ ," he said modestly. "But Dumbledore trusts me, tha's true."

"Have you got any theories about what might've happened to Sally? Or heard anything that seems, I dunno, important?"

"Nothin' I haven't already told the Headmaster," said Hagrid. "Me an' Fang were patrolling the grounds that night. Sally never left the castle, I can tell yeh tha' much. We'd've seen her if she had. Professor Kettleburn and I searched for her the next morning, even, after Dumbledore realized she was missin', but we didn't find a thing. No, Sally didn't leave the castle; I'm sure o' that."

"What if she had something like an Invisibility Cloak?"

"An Invisibility Cloak's no match for Fang's nose," said Hagrid proudly. "Not ter mention Professor Kettleburn's the best naturalist around. Tha' man can track a Thestral in the Dark Forest on a moonless night. But he couldn't find a trace o' Sally."

Lily took a sip of tea, disappointed. She'd been hoping Hagrid might have found evidence that Sally had run away. As things stood, she _really_ didn't want to go poking her nose around Slytherin.

Hagrid's black eyes softened at her expression. "I'm sorry, Lily. I wish I could tell yeh wha' happened ter Sally."

"It's alright," said Lily, and she forced herself to smile at him. She sensed that further talk of Sally would just depress Hagrid, so she switched to telling him about her apprenticeship with Healer Fenwick. Hagrid listened attentively while refilling her tea and shoving more rock cakes at her, despite her protests.

She left Hagrid's hut as the sun was setting. She felt significantly more optimistic than when she had first begun her walk around the lake. Maybe it was actually a good thing that Hagrid hadn't seen Sally on the grounds. It meant the list of possibilities was narrowing.

During the prefect's meeting that evening, Lily signed up for a patrol shift in the dungeons. She wanted to go back to the Salazar Corridor and examine it more closely. Her tracking spell had led her there, after all; the corridor had to be significant. As she wrote her name, she ignored the hole Regulus Black was apparently trying to burn into her skull with the force of his gaze.

Beside her, Remus raised his eyebrows when he saw what she'd signed up for. "Didn't realize you were keen on wandering the dungeons."

Lily's shoulders tensed, and she was about to let out a snappish retort, but the words faded in her mouth when Remus bent to write his name next to hers. "You don't mind if I come with, do you?" he asked.

"Of — of course not," she said, somewhat nonplussed. "That'd be nice, actually."

"Perfect," he said, straightening. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

When Lily met Remus in the Entrance Hall the following evening, he was carrying a quill and some spare parchment, and there was a rat in his pocket.

"Erm," said Lily, squinting at the rat. "Is that…?"

"Good old Wormtail," said Remus, stroking the rat's head. "My little friend."

"I didn't realize you had a pet rat."

"Oh, I've had him for years," said Remus airily. "He usually stays in the dormitory, though." He gestured to the dungeons. "Shall we?"

During their patrol of the dungeons, Lily tried to guide them towards the general area where the tracking spell had stopped working. This proved more difficult than she had anticipated, however. The dungeons were dark and labyrinthine, and she couldn't remember the way, for one thing.

For another, Remus insisted on taking copious notes about the dimensions of the dungeon corridors while his rat scampered up and down the dungeons. She peered over his shoulder as he worked and was surprised to find that he was measuring everything in a unit called 'Wormtails'.

"Do I even want to know what you're doing?" she asked.

"Definitely not," said Remus. He chewed on the edge of his quill as he added the words ' _26.5 Wmtls'_ beneath his rough sketch of the corridor they were in.

"You know the dungeons are Unplottable, right?" said Lily. "You can sketch the corridors and rooms all you like, but you won't be able to make them fit together in a way that makes sense."

"All of Hogwarts is Unplottable," said Remus. "Doesn't change a thing." At his feet, Wormtail made what Lily swore was a dismissive noise.

"Right," said Lily. "Forget I asked."

After nearly two hours of wandering (Lily suspected they were going in circles), the corridor split off in two directions, and she got her bearings. "Oh, good, we're close," she said, grabbing Remus' elbow and dragging him along. "Let's take the left-hand corridor, why don't we…"

From there it was only a short walk to the Salazar Corridor. Remus whistled as he examined the statues of Salazar Slytherin. "I had no idea this existed."

"Neither did I," said Lily. She was itching to pull out her wand and try to figure out the corridor's secrets. "Bit out of the way, isn't it?"

Remus ran his hands over one of the statues, which depicted Salazar as an armoured warrior, wielding a lance in one hand and a wand in the other. "Reckon these are hiding something?"

"No idea."

"Oh, sorry," said Remus. "I was speaking to Wormtail."

Lily snorted. "Of course you were." She crouched down and cast a weak _Lumos,_ running her wand over the stone floor. Maybe there was a trapdoor here, or a pressure plate that would reveal a hidden room. Remus was right, the statues _could_ be hiding something.

She snuck a glance at Remus. He was tapping his wand against a statue, muttering something she couldn't make out, while Wormtail squeaked encouragingly. She wondered if Regulus was right; maybe this corridor _was_ full of curses that would kill you in a hundred different but equally painful ways. Remus didn't seem very concerned about that though, so she wasn't going to be either.

 _First things first_ , she decided. _Find any hidden passageways or secret rooms._ She cast an Anti-Concealment charm under her breath, sweeping her palm across the floor, but nothing happened. She examined where the floor met the wall, but there were no gaps to indicate a secret passage.

"Bugger," she muttered. There _had_ to be something hidden here. That tracking spell had brought her to this corridor for a reason.

 _Maybe Sally Dearborn died here_ , whispered a voice in her head. _Maybe there's nothing more to it than that._

"Looking for something?" said a high, cold voice. Lily looked up; at the end of the corridor, the portrait of young Salazar Slytherin was peering down his nose at her.

"No," said Lily defensively as she stood up. "Just — lost an earring the last time I was down here —"

Salazar narrowed his eyes. The expression made him look exactly like a blonde Severus. "Weasley, wasn't it?"

"Abbott," corrected Lily.

"Oh, yes," said Salazar. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "That's right. _Abbott_."

"Anyway," said Lily, "guess my earring isn't here, so I'll just be getting on…"

If anything in this corridor that could put a curse on her, she was certain that painting could. She hurried to catch up with Remus, who was measuring the distance between a set of statues. "Are you ready to keep moving?"

Remus blinked. "But I'm just getting started here. How far apart are these statues, do you reckon? Eight Wormtails? Nine?"

"Erm, nine, I think," said Lily. "But that's not — I'm worried about that awful painting," She jerked her head towards the end of the corridor. "It knows I'm not pureblood. I'm afraid it's going to curse me, or something."

"Oh," said Remus. He glanced at the portrait, which was glaring at them. "I can take care of that, actually." And before Lily could stop him, he made an extremely rude gesture towards the painting. "Be nice to Lily Evans!" he called.

The painting looked as horrified as Lily felt. "Oh, my God," she said, caught between laughter and panic. No more pretending to be an Abbott, then. "You actually —"

"Paintings are harmless," said Remus, turning back towards the statue. "Well, the Fat Lady on a bad day isn't. But that scrawny fellow over there can't hurt you."

"You'd better be right," said Lily. "I'm blaming you if I wake up with Salazar's ghost looming over me."

"We'll take care of him if he does," said Remus. Wormtail gave a decisive-sounding little squeak.

* * *

Lily couldn't help but feel disappointed after her latest visit to the Salazar corridor. She'd thought she would have found _something_ there to make sense of why her tracking spell had led to her to that corridor in the first place. But she'd found nothing — not even any dangerous Dark objects or curses! The next time she saw Regulus, she was going to tell him that he was full of it.

It was frustrating. She had nothing to go on — no belongings of Sally's, no clues, no idea what had happened to her. She only knew the things Sally _hadn't_ done, and that wasn't much help at all. Sally hadn't left the castle. She hadn't been seen by anyone. And she hadn't hidden in a secret room in the dungeons.

During her History of Magic lesson, Lily scratched a list onto her parchment instead of listening to Professor Binns' droning. If she could get the facts in order, maybe she'd notice a pattern. A new lead would be nice.

 _Sally Dearborn_ , she wrote, underlining the name. _Killed (or kidnapped?) because of her father's politics? Saved by family? Ran away?_ She chewed on her quill before crossing out both 'saved by family' and 'ran away'. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore had made it clear that Sally's father had no better idea of her whereabouts than they did, and Hagrid had told her Sally hadn't left the castle.

That left killed or kidnapped, then. Neither of those things were good.

 _Possible culprits_ , Lily wrote. _Mulciber's gang. Real Death Eaters/Voldemort? A jealous ex-boyfriend? Accident?_

Well, she could discount the 'accident' theory fairly easily. Students didn't accidentally vanish into thin air. It couldn't have been the real Death Eaters, or Voldemort, either — if they could get into Hogwarts, they wouldn't have needed to attack the Hogwarts Express.

So that left either Mulciber's gang or someone from Sally's past that Lily didn't know about. She'd never seen Sally with a boyfriend, but she supposed it was possible. In fact, she probably _should_ eliminate anyone from Sally's past before focusing on the Slytherins. If she was going to confront Mulciber's gang, she needed to be certain they were the only possible suspects. She didn't want them to get off on a technicality.

Lily scanned her notes and made a face. She may as well have filled the parchment with question marks for all the good it had done her. She was the worst detective ever.

"You were taking diligent notes today," commented Marlene as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. "Didn't realize you were so interested in goblin wars."

"Har, har," said Lily. "I was just trying to get my thoughts in order. You know, about Sally, and what might have happened to her."

Marlene gave her a weird look. "You're not still on about that, are you?"

"Erm, obviously I am," said Lily. "Is that a problem?"

"No," said Marlene, "it's just weird. You don't really think you can figure out what happened to her, do you? Do you think you know better than Dumbledore? Or McGonagall?"

"Well, _I_ think it's weird that everybody seems to have given up on finding out what happened to her," said Lily. "Even Dumbledore seems more focused on the Aurors and the protections around Hogwarts, now. Nobody's looking for her."

"We _did_ look for her," said Marlene. "Six months ago. There were search parties for weeks, remember? But nobody ever found anything. You can't expect things to continue with that intensity indefinitely."

"I don't!" said Lily. "I just don't like how everyone's content to assume she met a bad end because of her father's politics, when we don't even — when there's no proof —"

Marlene's mouth twisted sympathetically. "I get it. I didn't want to believe it either. Dumbledore's speech at the start of term — it sounded like he was taking responsibility for her death, didn't he?"

"It did," said Lily. "But Dumbledore doesn't know everything. Sally could still be alive, even if he doesn't think so."

Marlene put a hand on Lily's shoulder. "Lily. We have to be realistic."

Lily crossed her arms. "I _am_ being realistic. I know she's not hiding in the Owlery, eating Pumpkin Pasties. That's not what bothers me."

"Then what?"

"It's so _unjust_. Every week, there are reports of disappearances in the _Prophet_. Muggle-borns or half-bloods, usually. Nobody ever finds those people, either. They don't even _look_. Everyone's become numb to it."

"Well, being numb doesn't mean people aren't _bothered_. Of course they are. But when disappearances happen all the time…" Marlene trailed off ominously.

"People stop caring as much," said Lily.

"You can't fault them for that," said Marlene. "It becomes normal."

"It shouldn't," said Lily. "If I disappear tomorrow, will you give up on finding me, too? Because it's _normal_ for Muggle-borns to go missing?"

"Of course not," said Marlene. "Don't be stupid."

"Good," said Lily. "Then you can't be upset at me for not giving up on Sally." She raced up the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories, not waiting for Marlene to follow her.

"Er, Lils?" called Marlene from the foot of the stairs. "Thought we were going to study in the common room, Mary's saved us seats —"

"I'll just be a minute," said Lily. "I need to check something."

When she reached the top of the staircase, she rapped on the door of the seventh year girls' dormitory. After a moment, the door swung open.

"Ah, hi," said a serious-looking girl with olive skin and curtains of long, straight black hair. "It's Lily, right?"

"Yeah. Lily Evans." She didn't miss the surprised twitch of the girl's eyebrows at her last name. "You're Isadora Pimentel, aren't you?"

Isadora nodded. Her waterfall of hair shimmered as she jerked her head towards the far end of the dormitory, where a gangly girl with tan skin was flipping through a magazine. "That's Cecilia Fenwick. Did you want help with your homework, or something? Because we're a bit —"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," said Lily, and Isadora's serious expression relaxed a bit. "Fenwick, did you say? I think I might have met a relative of yours, Cecilia."

Cecilia looked up, her dark eyes wide. "If it was my auntie, I apologize, she's been like that since her Kelpie accident in the sixties —"

Lily grinned. "Not an auntie, I don't think. He was a Healer — Benjamin Fenwick?"

"Oh, Benjy!" exclaimed Cecilia. "He's my second cousin on my dad's side. Lovely, isn't he?"

"One of a kind," said Lily.

Isadora leaned against the wall, arms crossed as she watched their exchange. Cecilia sat up, swinging her long legs over the edge of her bed. She patted the sheets, indicating Lily should join her. "What can we do for you, then?" she asked.

Lily sat gratefully beside Cecilia. "You two were friends with Sally, right?"

At the mention of Sally's name, Isadora's posture stiffened, and Cecilia's friendly smile grew a bit strained. "'Friends' was a strong word for Sally," said Cecilia, looking a bit apologetic. "She didn't have many. We lived in the same dormitory, sure, but — friends? I don't know if I'd go that far."

"She was kind of a bitch," said Isadora bluntly.

Cecilia made a face at Isadora. "She wasn't a _bitch_. She just had a strong personality."

"That's fine," said Lily. "Honestly, it doesn't matter if you were friends or not. I just wanted to ask — did you know of anyone who might've wanted to hurt her? An ex-boyfriend, maybe?"

Isadora looked bored. "McGonagall's already asked us the same questions."

"She wasn't seeing anyone when she went missing," explained Cecilia. "I know she dated Frank Longbottom, in the year above us, when we were fifth years, but aside from that…"

"She didn't do romance _or_ friends," said Isadora.

Lily nodded. "I guess that isn't terribly surprising."

"I always got the impression she was only close with her father," said Cecilia. "He was her only family, you know, and I think he was a bit paranoid. I mean, considering his politics, it makes sense, but — I always got the impression he raised her to be a bit of a soldier."

"He was tough on her," said Isadora. "But I guess he had reason to be. Considering she's dead now."

"Dori!" said Cecilia. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Fine," said Isadora. "She's only _probably_ dead."

Cecilia cast Lily a half-exasperated look. "You see what I have to put up with? Always the pessimist, I tell you…"

"So nobody wanted to hurt her," said Lily.

" _I_ wanted to strangle her," said Isadora.

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "Nobody aside from you, Dori."

"What about people from Slytherin?" asked Lily. "Some of them are a bit — fanatical, if you catch my drift."

"I don't think so," said Cecilia. "Although… there _was_ that incident at the beginning of the year with that creep Mulciber. But that's Mulciber, isn't it?"

Lily remembered the prefect meeting at the beginning of the year. Sally had seemed unusually angry at Regulus. "Target practice," she said softly.

"That was only happened once, though," said Cecilia. "She never said anything about Mulciber was targeting her specifically."

"She might've kept it to herself, though." said Lily. "She probably knows her father has a reputation for being paranoid. She might not have wanted to come across the same way."

"Well, she had allies in Slytherin, too," said Isadora. "Even if Mulciber didn't like her, it wasn't like they were _all_ after her."

Lily blinked. That was new. "Allies in Slytherin? How do you mean?"

Isadora leaned back, smirking at the look on Lily's face. "Aren't you a prefect? She got on fine with a few of the Slytherin prefects."

"What?" said Lily. "Like who?"

Isadora shrugged. "That annoying prat Avery."

That didn't make any sense. "Avery goes round with Mulciber, though," said Lily. "Sally couldn't _stand_ that group of Slytherins."

"Well, that's true," said Isadora. "Avery's the least evil of the lot, though. I saw them together on the fifth-floor landing the night she went missing. He was offering to escort her to Gryffindor Tower. Trying to be a responsible prefect, I expect."

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "So you're saying Sally went wandering off with Avery and nobody's seen her since."

"No," said Isadora, "because she refused. Told him to bugger off. She was very clear."

"And what did Avery do?" asked Lily. "Did he get angry?"

"Got his precious feelings hurt, more like," said Isadora. "Sally does that. He went back down the stairs, she continued up the stairs, and I went to study in the library because it's hard to think when Sally's in the dormitory."

Cecilia leaned over to stage-whisper in Lily's ear. "Isadora and Sally didn't get along."

"I would've never guessed," said Lily dryly. "Isadora, did you tell Professor McGonagall about seeing Sally and Avery together?"

"Of course not," said Isadora. "What was there to tell?" She adopted a mockingly high-pitched tone. " 'Hi Professor, just wanted to let you know that a prefect offered to walk the Head Girl to Gryffindor Tower, and when she said no, he backed off and they parted ways.' I'm sure McGonagall would have found that _riveting_."

"Alright," said Lily. She could tell Isadora's patience was wearing thin. "Thanks for the information. Will you two let me know if you remember anything else that seems important?"

"Of course," said Cecilia, at the same time Isadora said, "Probably not."

As Lily left the dormitory, she could hear Isadora muttering. "That was surprising. I guess Sally had friends after all."

"Oh, hush," came Cecilia's voice. "The poor thing was worried, I thought she was sweet…"

Lily grimaced. They clearly thought she was being naive. Not that she cared, much — Cecilia and Isadora could call her whatever they wanted, now that they'd given her a new lead.

She'd suspected for a while that everything led back to the Slytherins, and this was further proof. There was no way she could talk to Avery directly about that night — he'd only hex her — but maybe somebody else could. Maybe she could catch Regulus alone and ask him about Avery.

Regulus. Sirius' words echoed in her mind like a warning. _Don't bother him about this. You'll only muddle him up._

Sirius could shove it, she decided. He was just like Petunia, too bitter to acknowledge that there was anything good about his younger sibling. Lily knew better. She'd ask Regulus for help, and he'd give it to her. Wouldn't he?

* * *

Finding Regulus Black was more difficult than Lily had anticipated. He ate with Mulciber's gang at mealtimes, but she didn't dare approach him then. And during their prefect meeting that week, he stuck to Avery like glue, slipping in and out of the meeting before it had even finished.

She considered trying to catch him after one of his classes, but she had no idea what the fifth-year Slytherin class schedule looked like. She suspected, a little nastily, that she might have had a better grip on the Slytherin schedule if Severus hadn't spent most of the previous year avoiding her at all costs.

Finally, only a few days before the Easter holidays, she spotted Regulus in the Entrance Hall. He emerged from the corridor that led to the kitchens, stuffing what looked like a handful of meat pies into his bag.

"Regulus," she said, running a little to catch up with him. "Can we talk?"

His eyes widened, alarmed that she would dare speak to him public. He looked over her head at the other students milling about the Entrance Hall.

"Oh, for God's sake," said Lily exasperatedly. "It'll only be a minute."

"Fine," said Regulus shortly. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back into the corridor that led to the kitchens, letting the door swing shut behind them. "What's this about, then?"

Without meaning to, Lily glanced at the meat pies that were threatening to spill out of his bag. Nestled under the pies was what looked to be a roasted chicken.

Regulus followed her gaze. "I've been working on a project in my dormitory," he explained. "A painting of my mum. It needs to be finished soon. I just needed to grab a bite to eat."

"Ah," said Lily. "I didn't realize you were an artist."

A faint flush crept up Regulus' neck. "I'm not, really," he muttered.

"But you're painting a portrait of your mum?"

"I mean... that doesn't — it's not like I'm any good —"

Regulus looked like he was about to put his face into his bag of meat pies out of embarrassment, so Lily changed the subject. "I'm sure it's brilliant," she said. "I just have a quick question, and then I'll let you get back to painting. Did you know that Avery spoke to Sally Dearborn the night she went missing?"

The colour vanished from Regulus' face. " _What_?"

"Yeah, apparently he offered to escort her to Gryffindor Tower."

Regulus' inhaled sharply. "How — how did you find out about that?"

"A friend of Sally's saw them together," said Lily. "You don't think — Avery wouldn't have hurt Sally, would he?"

Regulus made a little jerking motion that might have been a shrug. Lily narrowed her eyes. "Regulus. Please. You _have_ to tell me what you know."

"I don't — I don't know anything," said Regulus.

Lily crossed her arms. "Bullshit."

Regulus sighed and glanced around the empty corridor, as if he expected to find people eavesdropping. "Look. I can't give you any details, but I know Mulciber and Sally got into it at the beginning of last term."

"I know," said Lily, and Regulus looked at her, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I heard about that," said Lily. "You lot weren't exactly subtle. What was it Sally said called it — 'target practice' ?" She drew quotes in the air with her fingers.

Regulus grimaced. "Right. My point is — Mulciber might have had it out for Sally, but Avery — he's not like that. He's not one to try anything on his own."

"What if he was acting on Mulciber's orders, though?" asked Lily. "What if he hurt Sally because Mulciber told him to?"

Regulus shook his head. "I don't think so. It's probably a coincidence that Sally's friend saw them together."

Lily frowned. "I'm not stupid, you know. Sev and I were mates last year. I know the sort of stuff Mulciber gets up to with his awful group — the group _you're_ part of. You're protecting them."

"I'm not," said Regulus. "I promise. I'm not even… I'm doing the minimum for them, alright? Unlike some people, I don't get off on learning Dark magic."

Lily raised her eyebrows. She'd suspected Mulicber's gang was dabbling in the Dark Arts, and this was confirmation. She wondered who was teaching them Dark magic.

"Regardless," said Regulus, who seemed to realize that he had said too much. "I don't think Avery was involved in Sally's disappearance."

"Maybe not," she said, "but he might have seen something significant, even if he wasn't involved directly." She hesitated. "Do you think… could you talk to him about it? For me?"

She knew even as she asked the question that it was hopeless. The expression on Regulus' face said as much.

"I'm just trying to keep my head down," he said. "If I start poking my nose where it doesn't belong, I could get into trouble. Real trouble."

"Like the sort of trouble Sally got into?"

Regulus looked deadly serious. "Exactly."

Lily shook her head, disappointed, and this more than anything seemed to gall Regulus. He ran his hand through his hair much the same way Sirius did, looking frustrated. "I wish I could help you, alright? I wish things were different. But I can't. I can't."

"You're _covering_ for them," said Lily. "You're… if you don't help, you're just as bad as they are. You're letting them get away with it."

"I'm not — I've got no choice."

"Wrong," said Lily. "You have a choice. You just don't like the consequences."

Regulus closed his eyes, pained. "If you knew," he said. "If you had _any_ idea…"

He looked so vulnerable. He looked just as resigned as Severus had during fifth year. She'd thought she'd understood what the pressure in Slytherin was like, but now she realized that the situation might be more dire than she'd imagined.

"Tell me," she said. "I can help you."

"You can't," said Regulus. "Nobody can."

"I could —"

"The food is getting cold," he said. The chill in his voice indicated that their conversation was over. "Can I get back to my painting?"

Lily felt tears burn at the corners of her eyes, and she had to fight to keep her face neutral. Sirius had been right. She couldn't save Regulus either.

"Alright," she said softly. "If you change your mind — if you think you might need help, no matter what it's for, you can come to me, alright?"

Regulus let out an incredulous little snort. "You really think that's ever going to happen?"

"All the same," said Lily. "The offer stands."

Regulus pressed his lips together like he was biting back a sharp retort. After a moment, he gave a twitch of his head, just enough to indicate he'd understood, and then he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N:** What do you think, is Lily on the right track? Is Sally alive or dead, and if the Slytherins got to her, how'd they do it? I'd love to hear your theories!


	29. Toujours Pur

On Friday evening, Sirius stuffed his belongings into his trunk and joined the long queue outside Professor McGonagall's office, waiting to use her Floo. He would have much preferred to stay at Hogwarts over the Easter holidays — he'd planned to tell McGonagall he needed more Apparition practice — but Dumbledore had requested that all students return home for Easter. Officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had finally finished canvassing Hogwarts and were planning to reinforce the castle's defences and protective charms over the holidays. Apparently, this was easier to do without hundreds of students underfoot.

Professor McGonagall nodded as Sirius stepped into her office. She gestured towards the fireplace. "Whenever you're ready, Black."

Sirius grimaced. "You know, Professor, I haven't quite mastered Apparition yet. I was thinking, it might be better if I stay here… get some extra practice…"

"I'm sure the Potters will be more than happy to let you practice in their back garden," said Professor McGonagall briskly.

"Ah," said Sirius. So she hadn't heard that he'd reunited with his family. Not that it mattered — he doubted she'd care. "Yeah. I bet they would be."

He heaved his trunk into the fireplace and stepped into the emerald flames, bending low so as not to hit his head on the mantle. "Grimmauld Place," he muttered, hoping Professor McGonagall couldn't hear.

Her hawklike eyes flashed towards him, but green flames obscured his vision before he could make out her expression. Not thirty seconds later, the Floo Network spat him onto the cold marble of Grimmauld Place's kitchen floor.

Walburga was sitting at the table, stitching a doily while Kreacher poured her tea.

"Hi, Mum," groaned Sirius. He rubbed his sore knees as he stood up.

Her thin lips stretched into a satisfied smile. "Sirius. Darling. So good to have you home."

She made no move to stand, so Sirius reluctantly crossed the room to kiss her on the cheek. "Is Father here?"

"He had a meeting at Gringotts with Blordak," said Walburga. "He said you are to review the ledgers in his office before he returns."

"Alright," said Sirius blandly. Kreacher shot him a look, clearly suspicious. Sirius met Kreacher's gaze and gave a little shrug. _Ten more years_ , he thought. _Ten years till I make you into a rug._

Kreacher's eyes narrowed to slits above his bulbous nose, as if he could hear Sirius' thoughts. Sirius winked.

"Regulus arrived half an hour ago," said Walburga, oblivious to the tension as she ran a needle through her doily. "He's in his room, painting. I trust you've seen the portrait he's working on?"

"Glimpses of it," said Sirius.

"And what do you think?"

Sirius could recognize a trap when he heard one. "It's very nice."

"He's quite the artist," said Walburga. "So sensitive, my youngest boy. So talented. I'm sure your father wouldn't mind if you said hello to your brother before looking at the ledgers."

That was new. His mum had spent the majority of the Christmas holidays trying to keep him and Regulus apart. "I'm allowed to spend time with Reg again, then?"

He immediately regretted baiting her. Walburga sucked in a breath, drawing all the air in the room into her lungs. After a long moment, she exhaled and clucked her tongue. "Yes. But no smoking those disgusting Muggle cigars of yours."

Sirius was fairly certain she only found the cigarettes repulsive because they were Muggle-made. His father often smoked a pipe, after all. "Alright," he said. "No smoking and I can talk to Regulus again. Sounds fair."

Walburga's attention had fully turned to the doily. "It's not good to be separated from family." She sounded as if she was reciting from a book. "You and Regulus are brothers. You need each other."

 _I don't need any of you_ , thought Sirius. Out loud, he said, "Thanks, Mum."

The door to Regulus' room was ajar. Regulus was standing in the middle of the room, examining his portrait of Walburga. Sirius knocked, and Regulus gestured for him to come in without taking his eyes off of the painting.

Although large parts of the portrait remained unfinished, its face was recognizably Walburga's. She was wearing a deep green dress with a broad neckline that exposed her pale neck and shoulders, though she wore no jewellery.

"It's really coming along," commented Sirius, standing beside Regulus. He thought it best not to add that, even in its unfinished state, the portrait gave him the creeps.

Regulus dragged his brush across his palette and began to add wisps of grey to the portrait's hair. "You could say that."

Sirius frowned; Regulus' angular face looked drawn, and there were deep circles under his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Mum's not working you too hard with this portrait, is she? I can speak to her — fifth year's a busy year, and if she's asking too much of you —"

Regulus laughed humourlessly. "She's not asking too much of me."

"Sure she isn't," said Sirius. "How many hours a week have you spent working on it this term?"

"Irrelevant," said Regulus. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

Regulus picked up a bit of purple on his brush and swirled it into the shadows of Walburga's hair. When combined with the other colours, it looked nearly black. "Like you said. I've got a lot going on this year."

"Exactly," said Sirius. "You're taking, what, ten O.W.L.s? Not to mention you're on the Quidditch team and you're a prefect. Add the painting on top and it's too much."

"Eleven O.W.L.s, actually," said Regulus. "Everything but Muggle Studies. And you're forgetting the things I have to do with Mulciber and his lot, too."

Sirius' stomach felt like it had just dropped out from under him. "What's Mulciber making you do? I swear, I'll murder him if it's anything evil —"

"It's really not a big deal," said Regulus. "It's just a lot of him trying to teach me curses I already know. Well, that and — I don't suppose you know what tubbing is?"

"No idea."

"Better for you," said Regulus. He shuddered a little before turning his focus back to the painting. "He makes us clean the common room, too. Things like that. It's boring, really."

"Huh," said Sirius. "That doesn't sound particularly sinister."

"It's not," said Regulus. "It's just — everything together. That plus Quidditch, plus prefect duties, plus O.W.L.s, plus — you get the picture, anyway."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Sounds miserable."

Regulus nodded. "I'm not sleeping much."

"You should ask Mum for an extension on the painting," said Sirius. "I know she wants to show it at that mad family dinner she's got planned for Easter, but you're her special darling of a son. She'll reschedule the dinner if you ask."

Regulus was adding impossibly fine brush strokes to the neckline of Walburga's dress. He shook his head. "I just need to finish already. Then I'll have one less thing to worry about."

"Wish I could help," said Sirius.

Regulus' thin lips twitched. "I don't. You're a terrible artist."

"I'm not _terrible_ ," said Sirius. "Just impatient."

"Exactly. No eye for detail."

"That's not true. As a matter of fact…" Sirius broke off. He'd been about to tell Regulus about the map. It was probably best to keep that little project to himself.

"What?" asked Regulus.

"Nothing." Sirius strolled over to Regulus' bookshelf and began to browse the titles there. "I'll read to you while you paint, how's that sound? What sort of story do you want?"

"I don't care. Just —" He flushed a little. "Pick something with a happy ending, alright?"

Sirius didn't dare tease him for that. He picked up a copy of _Holidays with Hags_. "Have you read this one yet? It's about a warlock who accidentally makes a pact with a coven of hags. He has to ask the princess of Bulgaria for help — there's a shockingly steamy section about halfway through, it's my favourite part. Except it turns out the princess of Bulgaria is secretly a Transfigured Hungarian Horntail, and one night while they're being intimate, she — well, I won't spoil it for you."

Regulus almost smiled. "Perfect."

* * *

Sirius' duties as heir were every bit as odious as they'd been during the winter holidays. Apparently, something like a new fiscal term had begun at Gringotts, which necessitated many ledger reviews and speculation on businesses with names like 'Mr Moribund's Apothecary' and 'Tallow's Toxic Tapers'.

Sirius was fairly certain that these businesses were fronts that funnelled money to the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, his father flatly refused to consider backing other ventures ("Knockturn Alley's growth over the last four years has been unprecedented," he'd said the last time Sirius dared point out the discrepancies he'd found in the ledger).

At least Sirius was allowed to spend time with Regulus in the evening. He'd sprawl on Regulus' bed, surrounded by thick tomes he'd taken from the Black family library. These books supposedly contained long-forgotten secrets of the Wizarding World, though Sirius was only interested in those that made mention of Hogwarts. He needed to finish filling out the map, after all.

There was another, smaller pile of spellbooks beside him. He was hoping to find a better method for tracking people on the map — adding each dot by hand was a pain. It would be nice if the map could keep track of people on its own.

"What are you doing over there?" asked Regulus. He was well into his fourth hour of working on the painting and was starting to look a little feverish.

"Nothing." Sirius turned a page in _Unraveling the Unknown_. "Hey, did you know the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is supposed to be hidden in a bathroom? According to whoever wrote this, anyway." He flipped the book over to check the cover. "Eridanus Black, it says. He was a great-great-uncle of ours, wasn't he?"

"Interesting," said Regulus, not sounding interested at all.

"Great-Uncle Eridanus is wrong, though," said Sirius. " 'Cause I've been in all the bathrooms, and I've never seen anything resembling a great door containing forgotten horrors." He perked up a little. "Reckon the entrance is in one of your loos, in the Slytherin common room?"

"It's possible. I'll let you know if any Hydra crawl out of the toilet."

Sirius grinned. "Cheers, Reg."

Sometime later, after Sirius had abandoned _Unraveling the Unknown_ in favour of perusing the pile of spellbooks, he let out a frustrated groan and flung the map across the room.

Regulus didn't so much as glance up from the painting; he was doing something very precise with the shadows around Walburga's ears. "What now?"

"It doesn't exist," said Sirius.

"The Chamber of Secrets?"

"What?" said Sirius. "No. Merlin's tits, Reg, the Chamber was three hours ago. Try to keep up, will you?"

"You make that difficult, you know. So what doesn't exist, then?"

"The spell I need," said Sirius. "I need a way to keep track of people, like on a sheet of parchment. Part-humans, animals, and ghosts, too. Something impossible to fool — that can see through disguises like Animagi or Invisibility Cloaks. And I want the spell to be self-regulating and permanent."

Regulus' thin lips stretched into a smile. "That sounds a little more advanced than the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six_. More advanced than what you might find in the Black family library, even."

"You see my problem. If a spell like this existed, it'd be heavily guarded by the Ministry. They probably use something similar for the Trace."

Regulus swapped one impossibly fine brush for another that was even finer. "You're looking for an enchantment, though. Something that can be put on a sheet of parchment. That's a little different from the Trace."

"I guess." Sirius slid off the bed and onto the floor, reaching for the map.

"I think there might be a similarly enchanted object at Hogwarts, actually," said Regulus.

Sirius bolted upright. "Really?"

"Could be." Regulus' face was inches from the painting; he looked like he was far more interested in whatever minuscule detail he was adding to Walburga's eyebrows.

"What you're describing sounds like the enchantment the Founders put on the Book of Admittance and Quill of Acceptance."

"Hang on," said Sirius. "The Founders? They wrote a… what did you call it, the Book of Admission?"

"The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance," corrected Regulus. "Believed to have been created by Rowena Ravenclaw. They're locked in one of Hogwarts' eastern towers."

"Have you seen them?"

"Of course not. The tower's been locked for centuries. Only the Headmaster of Hogwarts is allowed to enter."

Sirius took that as a personal challenge. "So what do this Book and Quill do?"

"They've been enchanted to track and record the names of prospective Hogwarts students all on their own. Every magical child in Britain is recorded in the Book. It's been going on for centuries."

"What the — how do you know about all this? How have I never heard of this famous book and quill?"

Regulus sighed. "Have you honestly never read _Hogwarts: A History_?"

"No, because I'm not a complete prat. I can get around the castle just fine without Bathilda Bagshot holding my hand."

"I'm not a prat," said Regulus defensively. "There are loads of copies all over the prefects' office. It's a useful primer for first years."

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "And for perusing when Chester Fernsby starts droning on about prohibited joke items?"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "My point is, the foreword was written by Armando Dippet. He describes the book and quill — using them as a metaphor."

"Let me guess," said Sirius. "Something about how, just like the quill marks the pages of the book, every student leaves their mark on Hogwarts' legacy."

Regulus looked defensive. "It's quite well-written, actually."

"Sounds like it," said Sirius, yawning loudly. "Well, thanks, Reg. Stay away from the eastern towers while you're patrolling next term, alright?"

"You — you're not planning on —"

"I most certainly am." Sirius swept the collection of books into his arms and opened the door to the room. "Cheers, Reg. Thanks for your help."

On Saturday evening, Sirius was sprawled on Regulus' bed, as usual, when Regulus set down his paintbrush. Sirius glanced up from the book on motorcycle maintenance he'd been reading, slightly alarmed. Recently, Regulus only stopped painting when forced. "What?"

"It's finished," said Regulus, his expression dazed as he stared at the portrait. "I really — I really think it's finished."

Sirius shoved his book under a pillow, while Regulus summoned Kreacher to tell him the news. Kreacher took one look at the painting and began to cry with joy. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he vanished with a pop, only to return minutes later with Walburga Black. She was holding an ornate jewellery case that appeared to have been carved from bone.

She stared reverently at the painting of herself. "It is beautiful. And just in time for the family dinner."

Regulus dipped his head a bit in acknowledgement, his dark fringe falling over his eyes. "You are beautiful, Mother."

"You have done very well, my son." Walburga lifted an arm. Sirius thought she was going to pull Regulus into an embrace, but she touched the painting instead, running her finger down the portrait's bare neck and collarbone. The painted Walburga remained pale and still, like a Muggle painting, unresponsive to her touch.

"It still needs enchanting," said Regulus quickly. He sounded like he was trying to head off any criticism.

"We shall do it now," said Walburga. Her arm fell to her side, and she placed the ivory jewellery box gently on Regulus' desk.

When she spoke again, her tone was sharp. "Sirius."

Sirius gave a little start. He'd thought they'd forgotten he was there. "Yes, Mum?"

"Leave the room. Take Kreacher with you."

She wasn't looking at him; her eyes were fixed on the jewellery box. Regulus, clearly uncomfortable, tilted his head towards the door, indicating that Sirius should go.

"Alright," said Sirius. "Come on, Kreacher."

The house-elf eyed Sirius suspiciously but followed him out of the room. The door swung shut behind them, locking itself with a clicking sound.

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the bannister. "Why'd they throw us out?" he asked Kreacher.

"Mistress needs her privacy," croaked Kreacher.

"Yeah, but to enchant the portrait to move? That's not exactly a complicated process, I've seen Regulus do it loads in that old sketchbook of his…" Sirius trailed off.

Kreacher wasn't listening; the house-elf slowly descended the stairs without waiting for him to follow.

Walburga did not emerge from Regulus' room for the rest of the evening. As Sirius lay in bed that night, he could hear all sorts of sounds coming from Regulus' room, from the occasional bang to what sounded like murmurs. Once, he thought he heard a scream.

When it was past midnight, he crept across the hall and pressed his ear to Regulus' door, but it was no use. It seemed like the closer he got, the less he could hear. Sirius was certain of one thing — whatever they were doing, it wasn't one of the usual charms to make the portrait move.

The next morning, Sirius woke early. The door to Regulus' room was still locked, so he waited outside until Kreacher shuffled past and shooed him away. Undeterred, Sirius snuck into the large, Victorian-style bathroom he and Regulus shared. He lowered himself into the empty tub, fully clothed, and waited, tapping his feet against the tub.

Eventually, the door to the bathroom opened, and Sirius heard soft footsteps as Regulus padded over to the sink. The faucet squeaked as he turned it, and the sound of running water filled the bathroom.

Sirius sat up in the tub. "What happened last night?"

Regulus jumped. There was a clatter as he dropped toothbrush into the sink. "You — What in Merlin's name… Have you been _hiding in the tub_?"

"Mum and Kreacher are trying to keep us apart," explained Sirius. "D'you think it has something to do with whatever ritual you performed last night?"

Regulus blanched. "How'd you know there was a ritual?"

"Usually when I'm left out of a family activity, it's because there's Dark magic involved. Am I wrong?"

Regulus wet his toothbrush and began to brush his teeth. "I'm not allowed to tell you," he mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"It has to do with the portrait though, doesn't it?"

Regulus muttered something that sounded like "maybe".

"I swear, I'm going to murder Mum," said Sirius. "Making you paint a portrait of her just so she can use it for her own twisted ends… That _hag_ —"

Someone rapped sharply on the door. "Master Regulus!" called Kreacher. "Is Master Regulus speaking to his brother?"

Sirius laid back down in the tub. "Tell him I'm not here."  
"Master Orion is needing help with the ledger!" said Kreacher shrilly. "Master Regulus' brother must go at once!"

"Is he refusing to say my name, now?" asked Sirius. "I'm not _that_ much of a disappointment, am I?"

Regulus spit into the sink and turned to Sirius, grimacing. "You'd better go."

Sirius flung open the bathroom door. He pushed Kreacher roughly aside as he stormed past, nearly flinging him to the floor.

"The brother is trying to hurt Kreacher," muttered the house-elf as he steadied himself. "The brother is angry, oh yes, but Kreacher is nimble, Kreacher is getting out of the way…"

"Lock yourself in the broom closet, house-elf," snapped Sirius.

Kreacher shot him a look of deep dislike, but he couldn't disobey a direct order, and he vanished with a _crack_.

Sirius was so determined to continue his conversation with Regulus that he managed to update the ledger in record time. "Right, that's finished," he announced, closing the thick, leather-bound book. "If you don't need anything else…"

"I believe your mother could use some help with the floral arrangements downstairs," said Orion Black smoothly. "Why don't you lend her a hand?"

After the decorative flowers were arranged to his mother's liking, Sirius sprinted up to Regulus' room before she could give him another task to complete. Regulus' room was unlocked, but no-one was inside; it turned out that he and Kreacher had gone to Knockturn Alley to purchase some prime cuts of Mooncalf meat for dinner.

When Regulus and Kreacher returned, Sirius was expected to help them prepare the meat. Walburga supervised their work; though she sat quietly at the table, embroidering her doily, her presence ensured that Sirius would have no opportunity to speak to Regulus privately.

As the afternoon grew late, the kitchen filled with the smell of sizzling meat. Between the warmth of the oven and Walburga's watchful eye, the room grew so stifling that Sirius began to feel like he was the one being roasted alive.

He didn't get another chance to talk freely to Regulus, and by the time the guests began to arrive for dinner, it was too late to talk at all.

Cygnus Black was the first to arrive, trailed by his wife, Druella, and two of his three daughters. They were still pretending Andromeda didn't exist, Sirius supposed. Sirius allowed Narcissa to kiss him primly on the cheek, but he refused to even acknowledge Bellatrix's presence.

Bella, who was taller and more feral than ever, didn't seem put out by this in the least; in fact, she was also perfectly content to pretend that Sirius didn't exist, and spent most of the dinner whispering conspiratorially into Regulus' ear.

Uncle Alphard didn't arrive until it was time for pudding, and if he noticed the strained smiles on Orion and Walburga's faces, he didn't show it. He kissed Walburga's hand, bowing low, and Sirius raised an eyebrow. Uncle Alphard played the part of a doting brother well; there was no trace of the man who had ruthlessly tallied up Orion and Walburga's life expectancy. _Ten more years_ , thought Sirius.

After everyone had had their fill of pudding, Walburga rose from her seat, wine glass in hand. She wore the same deep green robes as her portrait, and even her hair had been done up to match.

"A toast," she said, "to my son." She turned benevolently towards Regulus, leaving no doubt as to which son she was speaking of. "He has painted a portrait of me, following the tradition of our family. Even when I am gone, my likeness will remain in Grimmauld Place, watching over our ancestral home."

Kreacher entered the dining room, carrying the cloth-covered painting. Sirius, alarmed at the thought of a portrait of his mum hanging permanently in Grimmauld Place, tried unsuccessfully to catch Uncle Alphard's attention.

"The portrait of the Mistress," croaked Kreacher. He set the painting on a wooden stand and removed the cloth with a flourish. Bella and Narcissa ooh-ed at the painting's reveal, while the adults clapped politely. Even Uncle Alphard nodded, looking impressed.

The portrait of Walburga Black lifted a graceful hand, acknowledging the applause. A pendant in the shape of a raven's skull hung from her neck. Engraved into the forehead of the skull were the words _Toujours Pur_.

Sirius squinted at the portrait, confused. The painting hadn't been wearing a necklace before, had it? Not to mention his mum — his real, flesh-and-blood mum — wasn't wearing any jewellery, though she and the portrait were dressed alike in every other way.

Narcissa nudged his side, and he realized he'd stopped clapping. He made a face at her and began to applaud with more enthusiasm. Across the table, Regulus wouldn't meet his eyes.

As Kreacher cleared the plates from the table, the adults fell into a deeply boring conversation about politics. Bella and Regulus vanished up the stairs, and Narcissa excused herself to peruse the library. Sirius tried to listen to the conversation, figuring that was his duty as heir, but he soon found himself yawning and rubbing his eyes. He really hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and his family was making even the activities of a Dark Lord sound dull.

A hand landed on Sirius' shoulder and his head jerked up. "'M awake," he said immediately.

"I'm sure you are," said Uncle Alphard, looking amused. "I was hoping you'd show me around your father's study. I'd like to see what he's taught you."

"Er," said Sirius with a reflexive glance at his father. "Can I?"

Orion nodded. "I think you'll be impressed, Alphard. Sirius has quite the keen mind — when he applies himself, that is."

Sirius winced at the jab, but he allowed Uncle Alphard to lead him up the stairs and into his father's study. As he performed the countercurses on Orion's desk — his father kept the ledgers under heavy protection — the air around him suddenly felt heavier, as if they were underwater water.

He glanced at Uncle Alphard, who was tucking his wand back into his robes. "Privacy charms?"

"Only the most basic," replied Uncle Alphard. "I estimate we have five minutes before the countercharms your father has placed on his study take effect."

"Alright," said Sirius, somewhat nonplussed. He pulled the ledgers out of the top drawer of the desk and began to rifle through them. "Well, we've been focusing on businesses in Knockturn Alley this week, so here're the accounts for Moribund's, if you'd like a look. Blordak at Gringotts has been giving us the run-around… This one's got stuff about Potage's Cauldron Shop in it, we just acquired a share there recently —"

"Sirius." Uncle Alphard sounded amused. "Do you really think I care about your father's investments?"

Sirius paused, and then levelled an accusing gaze at his uncle. "You _should_ care. Some of our gold is going straight to the Death Eaters. At least twenty per cent of what we've put into Moribund's, I reckon, and that cauldron shop seems dodgy, too —"

"Potage's is one of ours," said Uncle Alphard. "The Order's, that is. Don't look too closely at it, lest your father grow suspicious as well. Though I will admit that the investments into Moribund's are… unfortunate, but unavoidable. At least for the time being."

"Unfortunate?" said Sirius. "I'd rate funnelling Galleons directly into the pockets of the Dark Lord a little higher than _unfortunate_."

"Eventually, less and less will go to the Death Eaters, and more will go to our cause," said Uncle Alphard. "But we have to start slowly. Convince your father to support the newly opened Herborium instead of Moribund's Apothecary. I don't know if you noticed, but over dinner I planted the seed in his mind that the Herborium is aiding Walden Macnair in his effort to amass a part-human army. An utter falsehood, of course — the Herborium is owned by the Fortescues, and they're as good as they come. But one must do what it takes."

"Erm," said Sirius, "sure. The Herborium. Got it."

"On to my next point," said Uncle Alphard. "We are going to have to change our plans. Did you notice the necklace the portrait of your mother was wearing?"

"Yeah, I did, actually," said Sirius. "Not sure where that came from, to be honest. I saw the finished portrait last night, and I don't think it was there. I think I would've remembered if Regulus spent hours labouring to include a huge eyesore like that. Unless he added it in overnight…"

Uncle Alphard shook his head. "That pendant was not mere brush strokes and canvas. There is a spell, invented by our ancestor Harfang Black, which allows a person —"

"—to conceal things in a painting," finished Sirius. "I know. I've seen Regulus use it before."

Uncle Alphard's expression was grim. "I recognized the pendant at once. It is a family heirloom, and an exceedingly dangerous one at that."

"Dangerous how?"

"It's a phylactery." Uncle Alphard paused. He looked expectantly at Sirius, as if expecting him to gasp in horror.

"Alright," said Sirius after a moment. "You're going to have to back up a bit. Not all of us Blacks spend our free time looking up Dark Magic in the family library, you know."

Uncle Alphard's lips pressed into a line, and he closed his eyes. "A phylactery," he said, "is a storage vessel for the soul. There is a ritual — do not ask me to describe it, it is Dark — that allows a person to store away a piece of their soul inside the phylactery, as if for safe-keeping. If such a person were to die, that piece of soul would remain tethered to this earth. It is powerful magic — a phylactery can influence on its surroundings for centuries after the death of its master."

"Fuck," said Sirius. He ignored Uncle Alphard's disapproving frown. It wasn't his problem if his uncle couldn't handle a Muggle swear. "So she's hidden a cursed necklace inside her portrait? To make herself immortal?" That was definitely going to mess up his ten-year plan.

"Not quite," said Uncle Alphard. "The reality is more subtle than that. When she dies, her body will be gone forever. But the fragment of her soul that lives on in that painting will continue to carry out her wishes. Up to and including a resurrection ritual, if she so desires. But I do not think she will go down that path."

"Why not?" asked Sirius. "If it's an available option…"

"She is my sister," said Uncle Alphard. "I know things about her that you do not. Her upbringing was a difficult one, and it has left her jaded and bitterly unhappy. I do not think she wishes to prolong such a life indefinitely."

"Then why would she put a part of her soul in this pendant thing?"

"To keep an eye on her sons, I expect," said Uncle Alphard.

Sirius recoiled. "You're joking."

"Nothing is more important to her than family," said Uncle Alphard. "Cygnus has had only daughters, to his shame, so you and Regulus will be the last to carry the Black family name. I expect she wishes to continue to guide you, even after she has passed."

"Not a chance," said Sirius. "As soon as her ten years are up, I'm slipping aconite into her tea and setting that painting on fire. Soul fragment, my arse."

Uncle Alphard inclined his head. "That is what I mean by a change in plans. Your route to inheritance may be complicated by her phylactery. But rest assured — after she passes, I will do what I can to help you destroy it, if we haven't been able to rid ourselves of it sooner."

That didn't sound particularly promising. "Er, thanks," said Sirius. "I feel very reassured now."

Uncle Alphard's lips curved into a smile beneath his salt-and-pepper beard.

The air in Sirius' lungs felt slightly less damp, and he sensed that the privacy charms were beginning to lift. "How's Dorcas, by the way?" he asked, hoping they hadn't run out of time.

"She's still alive, if that's what you're asking," said Uncle Alphard. "Doing well for herself, too. I don't know if you saw the news in the _Prophet_ about the disappearance of the Bones family?"

"Er, I think my friend Remus might've mentioned something about that."

"Well, _we_ know exactly where the Bones family is. Dorcas was the one who got them out of London — hid them in some Muggle village in Kent. She's very capable."

"Good," said Sirius. "Think she could help us destroy a cursed necklace?"

Uncle Alphard chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past her." He licked a finger and raised it into the air, as if testing the wind. "It seems the privacy charms have lost their effectiveness. Let's return downstairs, shall we? I believe Kreacher is preparing another round of drinks."

"Yeah, well, I'm not in the mood," muttered Sirius as he stuffed the ledgers back into his father's desk. The thought of his mother's soul lingering in Grimmauld Place was making him feel ill.

Uncle Alphard stopped him just before they left the study. "You are doing very well, Sirius. Your father may not show it, but he is quite pleased with you. Do you know that?"

Sirius shrugged. "I think a piece of _my_ soul dies every day I spend here."

"Patience," said Uncle Alphard. "You will not be under your parents' thumb forever." He drew Sirius into a brief, one-armed hug. "You aid the Order more than you know. I am proud of you."

* * *

Lily was eating breakfast when a rumpled-looking owl tapped on the kitchen window with a talon. In its beak was a letter from Healer Fenwick.

 _Lily,_

 _If you're feeling bored during your Easter holidays, why don't you give me a hand in the Artefact Accidents ward? We've got a few cases I think you'd find interesting. I've enclosed a Portkey — it'll take you to the ground floor of St Mungo's._

 _See you soon,_

 _Benjy Fenwick_

Barely thirty minutes later, Lily appeared in the lobby of St Mungo's. Feeling rather nauseous from the Portkey, she forced herself to take several deep breaths as she pushed through the doors that led to the Artefact Accidents ward.

The ward was nearly as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, though it was lined with beds instead of four long tables. Nearly every bed was already occupied, and the air hummed with activity as Mediwizards bustled about. Some Healers were barking orders to orderlies who scribbled on clipboards; in one corner, a circle of Mediwizards had surrounded one of the beds and were casting a complicated countercurse.

"Lily Evans!" exclaimed Healer Fenwick, loping towards her. Sweat plastered his hair to his large forehead, and it was a bit odd to see him dressed in emerald Healer's robes instead of his protective spacesuit. He was breathing hard, as if he'd just run a marathon, yet his smile was jubilant. "Excellent timing, there's been a cauldron explosion in a Muggle pub. We've just finished stabilizing one victim, but there's another on the way, we're getting the bed ready now —"

"A cauldron explosion in a Muggle pub?" asked Lily, following him as he strode down the ward. "How is that possible?"

"Looks to be the work of Death Eaters," said Fenwick. "Easy way to kill a bunch of Muggles, apparently. We've been seeing more and more of it, lately — they stick a few incompatible ingredients in a cauldron and leave it lying around for the Muggles to find. It's a lucky thing Doge was there, he was able to notify us as soon as it happened..."

"Sorry, who?" asked Lily.

"Oh, Elphias Doge," said Healer Fenwick. "An old friend of mine. He was in the area doing some work for Dumbledore — I'd tell you more, but I think Albus wants to keep it hush-hush for now." He winked at her.

The doors to the ward burst open and a couple of Healers marched in, pointing their wands at an unconscious figure floating above their heads.

"That'll be the patient we've been waiting for," said Healer Fenwick, gesturing for the Healers to come closer. They lowered their wands, depositing the patient on the bed. "Lily, would you like to perform the initial assessment?"

Lily nodded. She pressed the tip of her wand to the patient's wrist, casting a spell to check the state of his humours. "Too much black bile, not enough blood," she said. Why didn't he have enough blood?

She leaned closer, trying to get a better look at the patient. He was a smartly-dressed man in his sixties, though his suit was torn.

"He's bleeding," she said, noticing a dark stain that had blossomed on his side.

"The first rule of Healing," said Healer Fenwick. "Air goes in and out, and blood goes round and round. Any variation on this is bad." He spoke lightly, but his movements were focused, intentional; as he spoke, he drew his wand and Summoned a tray of various potions. "What's our next step?"

"We have to stop the bleeding to balance his humours," said Lily. "He may need a replenishment."

An orderly was already at her side, Vanishing the man's suit. Together, she and Lily closed the wound on the man's side while Healer Fenwick mixed a few potions together.

"Blood-Replenishing Potion," said Healer Fenwick, handing a phial full of dark red liquid to Lily. She poured the potion down the man's throat, and Healer Fenwick handed her another.

Lily hesitated as she took the second phial. "One dose should be enough, I think," she said. "He's a Muggle — he might not be able to tolerate another potion. If we give him too much, we'll scorch his veins."

"Good girl," said Healer Fenwick, pleased. "Keep that one for yourself, then. It's always useful to carry your own potions set, in case of an emergency."

Lily slipped the phial into her robes. As soon as the Muggle man had been stabilized, she and Healer Fenwick moved on to their next case: a witch who had lost a hand after her wand had backfired. After that, they took care of an eleven-year-old boy who Lily vaguely recognized as being a first year in Ravenclaw; he'd taken his older brother's broomstick for a ride and had broken a wrist.

After a few hours on the ward, Lily understood why Healer Fenwick had been out of breath when he had greeted her. The work was exhausting, yet varied and rewarding at the same time. It was much more hands-on than her apprenticeship in the Camille Grenoille Ward had been.

"What's going to become of our first patient?" she asked at the end of their shift. "The Muggle man?"

"Oh, he'll make a full recovery, I expect," said Healer Fenwick jauntily.

"But he won't…" Lily hesitated. "He won't be allowed to remember what happened, will he?"

"Ah," said Healer Fenwick. "No, unfortunately. They'll have to Obliviate him before he's released from St Mungo's."

Lily sighed. "I was afraid of that." She understood wizarding Britain's need for secrecy, but she didn't much like the idea of scrambling an innocent man's brains.

Healer Fenwick pulled off his emerald robes and handed them to an orderly. To Lily's surprise, he was wearing a collared shirt and trousers underneath, the sort a Muggle might wear.

He noticed her surprise and winked at her. "I'm moonlighting at the local Muggle hospital after this — need to keep those physician skills sharp, you know. Plus Doge heard the Death Eaters might try something in the A&E department, so I'll be there as a lookout, too."

Lily tried to remain nonchalant. Healer Fenwick was so _cool_. A dual-trained Healer who was helping Dumbledore fight the Death Eaters? She couldn't tell if she was in love with him or if she simply wanted to _be_ him. _If only he were thirty years younger_ , she thought.

* * *

Lily spent the remainder of her Easter holidays alternating between reading, helping Healer Fenwick at St Mungo's, and daydreaming about finding Sally Dearborn.

She wasn't sure exactly _how_ she was going to find Sally Dearborn, but she was certain she could to make it happen. Healer Fenwick was doing his part to fight the Death Eaters; finding Sally was how Lily could contribute, too.

She had a single new lead: Isadora Pimentel had seen Avery with Sally the night she disappeared. So she needed to find out more about what Avery had been doing that night. Regulus had refused to help her, and that was fine; disappointing, but fine. Because there was still one other Slytherin she could speak to, as loathe as she was to do it.

Severus Snape, her former best friend.

She didn't want Severus to think she had forgiven him, or that she wanted to be mates again. He needed to know this was purely an informational exchange. She hadn't bothered trying to talk to him at Hogwarts — he would have spent the entire time denying everything while looking nervously over his shoulder for Mulciber. She'd had enough of that dynamic the previous year.

But they were home for the Easter holidays now. He was back in Cokeworth, where she had the upper hand. There were no witches or wizards to eavesdrop, and they had no childhood friends from Muggle primary school to join the conversation. Here in Cokeworth, it had always been Severus and Lily against the world, ever since they'd met and he'd told her she was magic.

She liked that dynamic. She could use it to her advantage.

Lily began to take long afternoon strolls through Cokeworth, hoping to catch Severus at the post office or the grocer's, running errands for his mum. But her efforts were fruitless; she didn't catch so much as a glimpse of his stringy black hair. She began to suspect that Severus was purposefully holed up inside his house.

So she extended her afternoon walks to include grimy Spinner's End, where Severus lived. She tried whistling every time she passed his house, hoping he would hear. Once, she feigned an entire conversation with an imaginary Petunia, pretending to be arguing loudly.

Nothing worked. No signs of life stirred in the house on Spinner's End: its interior remained dark, and nobody came or went.

On the last day of the Easter holidays, Lily decided that, unfortunately, she would have to be a little more proactive. That evening, she carefully lifted the latch on her bedroom window once she was certain Petunia had gone to bed. Somewhere downstairs, her mum was still awake, though that didn't concern her as much. Lily was far more afraid of Petunia's reaction if she caught her sneaking out.

She climbed out the window and carefully lowered herself off the roof, dropping into the front garden. She followed the river to Spinner's End, past rows of abandoned shops and brick houses that became progressively more battered-looking.

There was something about Severus' grimy little house that reminded Lily of the Shrieking Shack; both had shuttered windows and weeds springing up where they shouldn't be. As she crept around to the back of the house, she saw a dim light coming from Severus' room.

She put her hand on her wand in the pocket of her jeans, steeling herself. She'd turned seventeen in January, so she was technically allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts, but she didn't have an Apparition license yet. She hadn't dared Apparate directly from her house to Severus' — suppose Apparating inside a Muggle residence wasn't allowed? She didn't know if the Ministry could trace Apparition the same way they did underage magic, but she wasn't about to take any chances.

She knew the Snape house wasn't Traced, though, since Severus' mum was a witch. Severus had always been able to do all sorts of magic at home without ever being reprimanded by the Ministry. She could Apparate into Severus' house from the back garden, and the Ministry wouldn't be the wiser.

Taking a breath, she turned on her heel — destination, determination, deliberation — and Apparated, as quietly as she could, directly into Severus' bedroom.

He was hunched over at the edge of his bed, scribbling furiously into his Potions textbook. He glanced up at her and gave an enormous start; his book clattered to the floor. As he scrambled away from her, he knocked over his inkwell, spilling pools of black ink onto his threadbare sheets.

"Sev." Lily held up her hands. "Relax. It's just me."

"It — you…" Severus stuttered, his face white. "You… Did — the mirror…?"

Lily frowned. She'd expected Severus to be surprised to see her, but this was a bit much. "What are you on about?"

Severus blinked, then sat up a little, squinting at her. "It's really you."

"Clearly," said Lily stiffly. "Who else would it be? My evil twin?"

"Something like that," said Severus. He looked at the puddle of ink on his sheets, grimacing. He reached for his wand, which was lying on the floor.

Lily beat him to it. " _Scourgify_ ," she said, and the ink vanished from Severus' sheets. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to startle you."

"Don't —" Severus groaned. "That — that was the last of my ink."

Right. He was poor. Lily felt a fleeting moment of guilt, which she buried. It wasn't her fault he'd overreacted. "Looks like you'll have to buy some more, then."

"Indeed." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'll just wear my robes lined with Galleons to Flourish and Blotts tomorrow."

He was angry because she wasn't taking pity on him. Well. Let him be angry. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

His eyes narrowed. "What's the point of this? Why did you Apparate into my room in the middle of the night?"

"Well, I would've met you in Cokeworth, but you never leave your house."

"Yes, I do," said Severus, but he looked away from her as he spoke.

"You don't. But I didn't come here to argue. We need to talk."

"About what?"

Lily pointed her wand at the door. " _Muffliato_."

Severus' black eyes glittered. "So you still use my spells?"

"Don't flatter yourself. The whole school uses your spells."

The chill in her voice was not lost on Severus. "Why have you come, Lily?"

She met his gaze, trying to keep her expression neutral. "Do you know what happened to Sally Dearborn?"

For the second time that night, Severus seemed genuinely surprised. He regarded her cautiously, heavy brow furrowed, before speaking. "I don't. Why?"

"That gang of yours," she said. "The Death Eaters."

"We're not Death Eaters."

"Not yet."

Severus' mouth twisted, as if he were about to spit out a scathing rebuttal, but nothing came out. At last, he said, "What about them?"

So he wasn't denying it. That was an improvement, she supposed. At least he was being honest. "I think they had something to do with her disappearance."

"Obviously." He drew each syllable out so long that she was tempted to hex him. There was no need to be so condescending.

Lily crossed her arms. "So?"

"So what?"

"You need to tell me what happened to her. It's important. Important enough for me to come here in the middle of the night."

Severus picked his Potions textbook off the floor and smoothed out its pages. "I can't tell you what happened, because I don't know, either. As much as it pains me to admit that."

Lily stared at him incredulously. He wasn't dancing around the topic like he usually did when lying. "You really don't know what happened to her?"

Severus shook his head. "I agree with your assessment. It seems most probable that someone in… my gang, as you call them, had a hand in her murder."

"Murder!"

Severus gave her the same look he used to use when she failed to grasp an advanced concept in Potions on the first try. "Of course she was murdered."

"But there's no proof of that at all!" protested Lily. Severus continued to stare at her with that disbelieving expression, and she relented. "I mean… I'll admit it's possible, but she could be, I dunno, held somewhere against her will, or something."

Severus snorted derisively. "She's not alive. There are a myriad of spells that can be used to find a living person. I'm sure Dumbledore knows them all, yet he's found nothing."

"But Dumbledore might not tell us if he _did_ find something. Some people think there's a conspiracy between him and Caradoc Dearborn to keep Sally safe."

"Do you actually believe that?"

Lily sighed. "Honestly… I don't think so. Did you notice, during the feast at the start of our second term, when he called Sally a —"

"…sacrifice," finished Severus. They stared at each other.

"You actually _don't_ know what happened to her," said Lily, amazed.

"I don't. I wish I did. You're trying to figure it out, too?"

"Yeah," she said. "Why're… why do you care what happened to her?"

"Are you trying to determine whether I'm trying to find her and finish what my Death Eater friends started?"

Lily's eyes widened. The thought hadn't even occurred to her. "Oh, God. You're not —"

"Calm down." Severus looked vaguely amused. "Of course not. I'm simply curious about what happened to her. That's all."

He sounded… honest. And it certainly wouldn't be the first time his curiosity led him to poke his nose where it didn't belong. Could he actually be telling the truth?

"Are you going to ask about my motivations?" said Lily.

"Of course not," said Severus. "I assume you believe that finding Sally is the right thing to do. And since nobody else seems to care, you've made it into a personal crusade."

Damn. Was she really that predictable?

"More or less," admitted Lily. She realized she was still standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed, so she decided to sit beside Severus on the bed. As long as he was being civil, she could be too.

Severus' shoulders tightened as she sat down, but he gave no other indication that she'd just done something that even ten minutes ago had been unthinkable. "Well. If you've come to compare notes, you're going to be disappointed, I'm afraid. I've got proof that none of my so-called gang were involved in her disappearance, as hard as that may be to believe."

"Proof?" asked Lily. "What proof have you found?"

Severus glanced between her and his Potions book several times. He seemed to be debating something internally. Finally, he said, "It has to do with mind magic."

"There's no such thing as mind magic," said Lily immediately. That had been one of the first things she had asked Severus about upon learning she was a witch. "You told me it's impossible to read people's thoughts."

"Yes," said Severus sardonically, "because that is what I believed I was nine years old. The truth is somewhat more nuanced, it turns out."

"Nuanced how?"

"It is impossible to peruse another's thoughts like a book," said Severus. "But there are ways of… getting the gist of things. Memories. Emotions. Ruminations. All can be accessed, though not easily interpreted."

Lily's jaw dropped. "You've _read the minds_ of your mates? To see if they killed Sally or not?"

"It is _not_ Muggle mind-reading," snapped Severus. "As I have already said."

Well, that distinction was certainly lost on Lily. "Erm, alright," she said. "So you, erm, used mind magic to figure out that your mates are innocent."

"It certainly looks that way."

"What about Obliviation, though?" asked Lily, thinking about the Muggle man she had Healed at St Mungo's. "Is your mind magic still reliable if they've been made to forget something?"

Severus stared at her. "It… It is possible. I had not thought of that." He reached for his quill, as if to jot something down, before seeming to remember that he no longer had any ink.

"Lucky you," said Lily sarcastically. "Some of us think about Obliviation every day, you know. Because we have family members that could be Obliviated for something as small as a slip of the tongue at the post office."

"I come from Muggles, too," muttered Severus. "Obliviating Tobias might be an improvement." He turned the quill over in his hands. Lily almost felt a little sorry for him.

Well. She certainly couldn't have that. It wasn't like they were _friends_. She'd ask the question she came here for, and then she'd be on her way, before he tested her boundaries. "Did you use your mind-reading — mind magic, sorry — on Edmund Avery?"

"I did. Why?"

"And he was innocent?"

"As far as I could tell," said Severus. "Why?"

Lily shrugged. "Just checking names off my list." They might have the same goals, but she wasn't about to give up her only lead to an admitted Death Eater in-training.

Severus' eyes narrowed, and Lily's heart began to thrum in her chest. He'd noticed something was off. "And Mulciber?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"Innocent," replied Severus. "So it would seem. Lily, if there's anything else —"

"There isn't. I've got no idea what happened to Sally, same as you." She stood up from the bed and adjusted her shirt. "I should be going, let you get your rest —"

"Lily," said Severus. "We can work together on this. Look at me."

She met his gaze only for a moment; the intensity in his black eyes scared her. "I don't want to work with you."

Severus stood. In an instant, he'd crossed the room and grabbed her by the arms. "I told you what I know. It's only fair. What have you found out?"

His eyes were strangely bright. _Mind magic_ , she thought. But he couldn't cast without a wand, could he?

"You have three seconds to let go of me," said Lily. She needed to get out before he discovered what she knew. She wouldn't let him take it from her. "One."

"Avery," said Severus. "You asked something about Avery. What was it?"

"Two."

He was still touching her. Her hand edged towards the wand in her back pocket. "Three."

She turned on her heel, wrenching away from him. His hands tightened around her arms, trying to keep her in place, but it was useless: with a deafening crack, her body was overcome with the sensation of being squeezed through a straw. A strange, sharp pain shot through her left foot, but she didn't have time to dwell on it before she Disapparated.

When she reappeared in her bedroom, she knew immediately that she had made three large mistakes. The first was that she was missing most of the little toe on her left foot, which she discovered after removing her blood-soaked trainer. The second mistake was that her sloppy Apparition had woken both her mum _and_ Petunia.

The third, most damning mistake, swooped in via owl the next morning. It took the form of a letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office, informing her that she was due in front of the Wizengamot on the twenty-first of June for her use of unauthorized Apparition in a Muggle residence, and was signed by Mafalda Hopkirk.


End file.
